And Life Goes On
by Spikelicious
Summary: Set after 'The Gift', Spike keeps his promise to watch over Dawn, sometimes getting more than he bargained for.
1. Open House

openhouse

Title: 'Open House'   
Author: Spikelicious  
Disclaimer: Joss yes, me no. Cheese, me no likey! g  
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: First in the 'And Life Goes on Series' set after 'The Gift' but once school has started. Buffy is still dead, and you'll have to assume that Spike is staying in Dawn's basement.  
Feedback: Yes, please! :)  
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"Spike, I need a favor."  
  
"Shoot, Nibblet." Spike didn't look away from the tv screen he was glued to; he had several hours worth of 'Passions' to catch up on and it was best done uninterrupted.  
  
"Spike, you could at least pretend to listen. That's what the 'pause' button is for," she added, snatching up the remote and freezing the picture just as Timmy was about to launch into some expository whining.  
  
The platinum blond turned to make a snarky comment to She Who Would Interrupt His Viewing Pleasure until he caught the look on her face. THE look. The big, watery eyes, the 'I need some attention and you are just the vamp for the job' pout. He fell every time; she was the only reason he woke up at night, and the only reason he didn't greet the sun each morning. The look thoroughly chastised him; he *was* a bad, rude man.  
  
Fixing an attentive gaze on the teen, he smiled apologetically. "Sorry, pet. What's up?"  
  
Dawn sighed and flopped down onto the couch next to him.  
  
"Well, we have this thing for school tonight. Open House. I gotta have someone come talk to my teachers and stuff. Basically you just need to show up, look interested in whatever the teacher says, nod politely, and leave. You can do that, can't you?"  
  
Spike frowned, but in confusion rather than irritation. "Pet, why? That's what the 'Bot is for. Hasn't Willow fixed her yet?" The 'Bot's wiring had gotten fried in a fight with a large, gooey demon the previous night. Although the robot had managed to make it home, she had shut down shortly thereafter and Willow had been trying to clean out the innards and fix whatever needed fixing.  
  
Dawn shook her head. "No. Something about replacing wires and fuses or some techno-geeky thing like that."  
  
"Oh. What about Willow? Can't she do it?" Although Spike was touched that Dawn would come to him for something like this, BuffyBot or Willow took care of the mundane every day stuff in Dawn's life. Spike was more concerned with the 'protecting Dawn 'til the end of the world' stuff.  
  
"No, she's still trying to get the 'bot ready for the next Social Services visit, and that could be any day now. Plus, she isn't very good at lying so, you know, major squirmage in front of my teachers. Again, not good for the whole 'everything's fine in Dawnland' act."  
  
"Are you sure, luv? I don't want to go mucking up your situation here," he added worriedly.   
  
Dawn smiled at his concern for her. "No, really, it's okay. You just pop in to each class, chat for a minute, look at whatever the teacher hands you, and go to the next class. There's only four, so it shouldn't take more than half an hour or so."  
  
Spike sighed. He didn't know why he didn't just say 'yes' right away whenever Dawn asked him for something, avoiding all the inevitable conversations that tended to reaffirm his status as a big, soft-hearted poofter.  
  
"Fine. What time?" He tried sounding gruff, knowing by Dawn's smirk that he'd failed completely.  
  
"Thanks, Big Bad. Be at school around seven. Oh, and wear your 'hottie' outfit."   
  
"Bloody hell. I am *such* a soddin' wanker."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I'm glad you were able to come tonight, Mr..."   
  
Spike reluctantly glanced up from Dawn's writing folder, realizing that the teacher was prompting him for his name. Having already visited Dawn's other three classes, he'd located room 109 a few minutes earlier and strode in all brusque and business-like,   
announcing that he was there for Dawn Summers. Quickly glancing around the desks in the room, he'd located the folder with Dawn's name printed on it and snatched it up. With genuine interest, he was now perusing a quarter semester's worth of class work.   
  
The teacher cleared her throat. "Mr..."   
  
Ah, it seemed that his Little Bit had decided to neglect the formal niceties of proper society and leave him to introduce himself. Which meant also inventing a history with her family. Well, he could at least use his real name.  
  
"Dunhill. William Dunhill." He noted the woman's look of skepticism and wondered if she'd been expecting him to share the Summers' name.  
  
"I'm Joyce's nephew," he added quickly. Hell, he'd be damned again before claiming blood kinship to that self-absorbed prat, Hank. Spike could see where Buffy's deeply-rooted and entirely justifiable abandonment issues sprang from.  
  
Dawn's English teacher, a Ms. Murphy by the sign on the door, was a thin, handsome woman in her mid-forties. She had keen gray eyes and slightly graying but still mostly-auburn hair, currently pulled into a haphazard knot at the back of her head. Her clothes were well-kept but poorly matched, and Spike was reminded of a future Willow. As she peered at him curiously, he wondered if the teacher sensed that something about him was   
different. Perhaps noticing a certain _undead_ quality to his nonetheless convincingly human appearance. Finally, she nodded almost imperceptibly, albeit with vague suspicion of his   
origins still evident in her piercing gaze.  
  
"So you're from England, then, Mr. Dunhill?"  
  
Spike groaned inwardly. Was he going to have to diagram a family tree? You'd think in this day and age the woman dealt with unconventional families all the time. And Dawn's family was certainly unconventional; with Buffy dead and Giles back in England, the 'Bot had been acting in Buffy's stead to keep Social Services away. However, with the 'Bot temporarily out of commission thanks to last night's battle, here he was attending Open House Night. Once upon a time, he'd been one-quarter of the Scourge of Europe, Big Bad Extraordinaire, Big, Scary Undead Creature of the Night. But now? Bloody babysitter to a   
teenaged girl...well, an _undead_ babysitter, but still. The fact that he loved the chit more than any human now walking the earth still did not endear her to him in this particular instance.  
  
"Yeah. I've been here in the states for about four years now, but I grew up in London." He'd skipped a few years in between, but close enough. Sticking to the truth whenever possible was always 'of the good', as any one of the Scoobies would say.  
  
After a few beats of silence, Spike decided that the 'amicably confused' act would work best in this situation.  
  
"Er, didn't Dawn tell you I was coming in for Open House?" He cocked his head and turned on the charm, flashing that killer smile and assuming his 'I'm just a big fluffy, puppy' persona.  
  
Ms. Murphy was apparently not immune to his rakish good looks and English charm.  
  
"Well, she didn't say who was coming in. Just that a family member would be sure to make it." She frowned slightly. "I thought that her sister, Buffy, was her guardian now? Shouldn't   
she be here?"  
  
Spike smiled conspiratorially. "Didn't she tell you?" He hoped Ms. Murphy would fall for his 'leading the witness' bit  
  
She fell. Her eyes widened and a look of concern crossed her face. "No, she hasn't said anything regarding her sister. Is something wrong?"  
  
Spike shook his head and smiled soothingly. "No, no. Nothing bad, just that Buffy's a bit, well, under the...weather." Spike bit the inside of his cheek to keep from choking in front of this clueless woman. His grief at Buffy's death was still fresh and sharp, and he had difficulty reigning in the impulse flee from the room and have a good cry. Or, get good and drunk. Again. And then possibly have the good cry anyway.  
  
He let his gaze drop back to the folder, finished leafing through it, studying certain pages now and then. Dawn had written a lot of poetry for this class, and she was good. Much better than he had ever been, he thought wryly, not that *that* was saying much. Not   
an 'effulgent' to be found within these pages, certainly. He closed the folder and placed it back on Dawn's desk.  
  
"Is this all I do? Look at her work?" Without the folder to keep his hands busy, his fingers were itching for a cigarette, and his gaze drifted longingly to the door.  
  
Ms. Murphy shook her head. "Usually we have a conference. To address any issues, concerns, or questions that may have come up," she added helpfully, noticing William's confusion. His face cleared.   
  
"Oh. Okay. Well, I don't have any questions and her work looks great. Are we done?" Spike was dying to get out of these clothes; falling into the Gap had done his comfort levels not one bit of good. Not to mention that he was wearing the clothes he'd, er, 'procured', to impress Buffy once upon a disaster. When the 'hottie outfit' comment hadn't worked, Dawn had insisted he look 'less Sex Pistols, more 'let's not throw Dawn into a foster home'.Hence, he was leather-free and wearing colors far removed from any shade of black or red.  
  
"Well, I had a couple of issues I wanted to address. Dawn's work is good, but still very melancholy. She usually ends up reflecting her state of mind and often misses the point of the assignment completely. Now, I realize she just lost her mother this year, but   
certainly if she is to get what she needs from school she must fulfill her scholastic obligations." Concern for Dawn's emotional health warred with Ms. Murphy's deeply-embedded sense of teacherly duty, but she was nothing if not pragmatic. Surely Mr. Dunhill could see that she wanted what was best for his young cousin.   
  
Spike blinked. "Scholastic...what? Didn't you just say Dawn was writing?"  
  
Ms. Murphy seemed startled by his clipped tone. "Well, yes, but she-"  
  
"Well, innit what you do in English class? Read, write, all that good stuff? Where's the problem?" Spike was quickly becoming irate. His little...Dawn, was going through some of the worst shit in her newly-human life, and this bint had the nerve to judge Nibblet's efforts as being not up to snuff?  
  
He took a deep breath--Ms. Murphy didn't know he didn't need it and it helped him to focus--then firmly tamped his anger down. He would do Dawn's cause no good by presenting himself as an unstable influence on her, or giving Social Services any reason   
to come knocking on the door before they were due. When they did, Willow would have the 'Bot fixed and programmed with the correct responses for any questions regarding Dawn's school work.  
  
He plastered Fluffy Puppy back onto his face and smiled apologetically. Her distress at his previous anger turned to confusion at his current appeasing manner, but she remained   
silent. He sighed heavily, the understandably long-suffering sigh of a male cousin that did not know how to deal with a female teenager who had lost her mother recently.  
  
"I'm sorry. All I can say is that when Buffy is...feeling better, she will be fully apprised of your concerns and if you'd like, I can have her contact you directly." He noticed absently that he'd lapsed into William's cultured accent, rather than speaking in his trademark street brogue.  
  
Ms. Murphy seemed to want to pursue the discussion, but finally nodded and smiled weakly. "Yes, well, I certainly look forward to hearing from Ms. Summers. But thank you for coming and and showing such interest in Dawn. She's lucky to have such a caring cousin."  
  
Spike shrugged. "I love her like she was my own." Off Ms. Murphy's look, he added, "Sister. Like she was my own sister, you know."  
  
Satisfied that she needed to move on to the parents who had arrived moments earlier and were trying not to look as impatient as they obviously felt, Ms. Murphy smiled again and lightly rested one hand on Spike's forearm, directly underneath the rolled-up cuff of his chambray shirt.   
  
"Yes, well, Mr. Dunhill, it was good to meet you." Her smile faltered and her gaze fell to her hand and the room-temperature flesh under her fingers. As her sense of wrongness registered, they both quickly pulled away, attempting to do so casually. As Ms. Murphy clasped her hands in front of her, Spike shoved both hands in the back pockets of his khakis, as if he had been intending to do so anyway. He could tell by the expression on her   
face that she was already inventing excuses as to why there was no indication that blood flowed through the veins beneath his cool skin.  
  
"Likewise. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off." Spike edged towards the door, and with a last confused and wary look at him, Ms. Murphy turned towards the couple waiting by the blackboard.  
  
Making his escape, Spike turned and fled the classroom. 'Bugger all, that was close', he thought as he forced himself not to exit the building with inhuman speed. After that brief but   
unsettling experience, he couldn't understand how the 'Bot hadn't been detected already in her dealings with...oh, wait. This was Sunnyhell. Home of rampant PCP gangs and the Cause of Death: Mysterious Neck Wounds section in the Sunnydale morgue.  
  
As he made his way back to Revello Drive, Spike thought ruefully that if he hadn't promised his eternal unlife to protecting Dawn, it would be wise to get the hell out of Dodge. This town was too weird even for a vampire.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn sat in the middle of the couch, a bowl of popcorn on her right side and a can of diet soda nestled in her lap.  
  
Spike came in and disappeared downstairs to his room in the basement without a word. He returned a moment later, wearing his familiar black t-shirt and jeans.  
  
As he settled down on the cushion next to her she rolled her eyes. "Geez, predictable much?"  
  
He ignored her barb and asked instead, "What's on?" nodding at the tv.   
  
"Real World reruns. Puck's gotten into the peanut butter again."  
  
Spike grinned at her. "That bloke is just misunderstood. He'd make a great vampire."  
  
"He really would. Blond, bad clothes, obnoxious beyond comprehension. I can just see him as a vamp," Dawn concluded sassily.  
  
Spike snorted, then turned to face her with a humorless expression. "Speaking of your Open House thing tonight, I was wondering why you neglected to let you teacher know who I was. Or that I was even coming," he added in irritation.  
  
Dawn shrugged, but she dropped her gaze and played with the soda in her lap in order to avoid his eyes. "Well, I just figured that you would make up some great thing about who you were and you could just fill me in later."  
  
Spike stared at her for another minute before turning back to the tv screen. After a moment, he asked conversationally, "Don't you want to know who I was?"  
  
"Uh, you mean who you *are*?"  
  
"Whatever. I'm your-"  
  
"-please don't say father-"  
  
"cousin. Bloody hell, Nibblet, why would I pretend to be that bastard? Come to think of it, I've been more of a father to you than that pillock."  
  
"Spike, I haven't actually ever met him, so it's no contest."  
  
"What?"  
  
Dawn turned away. "Nothing. Nevermind. Did you embarrass me?"  
  
Spike glowered. "No! But she wants to see the 'Bot when she's 'feeling better'. I told her Buffy was sickly and would contact her."  
  
"Okay. Willow called about twenty minutes ago and said she was fixed. She just wanted to know if it needs any new files."   
  
Spike had noticed early on that Dawn never referred to the 'Bot as anything but 'it', except when referring to 'it' as 'Buffy' in front of strangers. He briefly wondered if they weren't doing the girl more harm than good by forcing her to have her sister's robot double around. It was bad enough that Dawn blamed herself for Buffy's sacrifice; that he could understand all too well. But to be constantly reminded with a realistic-looking ringer that would never actually come close to being Buffy...no wonder her work was 'melancholy'.   
  
"Yeah, she'll have to create a file on 'how to deal with teachers \who are concerned with Dawn's mental health'."   
  
Dawn groaned, but didn't even ask why. She knew all too well that her schoolwork reflected the guilt and grief she felt buried under every minute of the day. Instead, she asked,  
  
"Let me guess. Ms. Murphy?"  
  
"Yeah. How'd you know?"  
  
Dawn paused, considering her answer. "She's the only one who would care enough to notice my mental health. Or lack thereof."  
  
Spike glanced at her but said nothing. After a moment, Dawn's curiosity got the best of her.  
  
"So, you tell her your real name?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They were into the fourth episode in the 'Real World' marathon before Dawn finally caved.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Yeah, pet?"  
  
"What *is* your real name? I mean, I know William, but I assume the Bloody' wasn't on your birth certificate."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Your cousin, meaning your mother's nephew, is William Thomas Dunhill."  
  
"Huh. That's a good name."  
  
"I'm glad you approve. Now shush."  
  
Thirty seconds passed.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Pet, this better be good. Rachel is giving Puck a good tongue lashing."  
  
"Okay, first, ewwww. Second, thanks."  
  
"S'okay, Nibblet. That's what family is for."  
  
"Sure, _cuz_. Hey, I have this thing called a 'progress report' I need signed, and you don't even have to read it or anything, just slap your 'William Thomas Dunhill on it..."  
  
"Don't push it."  
  
FIN  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Slumber Party

slumberparty

Title: "Slumber Party"  
(Part two in the 'And Life Goes On' Series)  
Author: Spikelicious  
Disclaimer: Er. Joss and Fox and ME own all characters contained herein.  
Dedication: To NMissi and Fenchurch and Delylah (sp?), who helped me come up with this story.  
------------------------------  
  
  
Spike stared at the gaggle of teenage girls in awe. He had never seen such a sight in all his unlife. There were toenails being painted, popcorn being devoured, movies being 'awwwed' over, and he could swear to Satan that as he'd left the room earlier he'd heard one of the Nibblet's friends exclaim in a hushed whisper, "your cousin is a major babe!!!"  
  
All in all, he was feeling a little nauseous.  
  
"Spike, can you bring in that last pepperoni pizza?"  
  
Spike stared down at Dawn, who was currently having her hair braided by Brunette Who Speaks Too Loudly While Popping Her Gum. With the remote in one hand and her diet coke in the other, Dawn held court in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by her six friends. The girls had staked their territory, pushing back the living room furniture in order to be able to sprawl out amongst their sleeping bags, junk food hordes, and various and sundry makeup items that tended to come in murky shades with names such as 'sludge' and 'midnight oil'. Although a particularly nice shade of black caught Spike's eye, he resisted the urge to swipe it and instead turned back to the kitchen to fetch Dawn's latest request. As he pulled the pizza out of the oven where he'd put it to keep it warm, he began to slowly and methodically curse the BuffyBot and the day he'd had it commissioned. This entire night was all the 'Bot's fault.  
  
"...and its stupid, cheery comments. 'Why don't you ask your friends to come here? Would that make you happy? Spike will stay and make sure you're safe while I patrol!' Stupid, bloody robot!"  
  
"Spike, why are you upset? And why are you yelling at the pizza?" The BuffyBot came into the kitchen and closed the back door behind it carefully. Shrugging off its--Buffy's--leather jacket, the 'Bot came to stand expectantly in front of Spike.  
  
"What?" he demanded brusquely, not able to even look at it for very long. It was the spitting image of his dead love, and the representation of his biggest humiliation. Well, self-inflicted humilation. Then again, Buffy's mechanical double had kept Dawn from being sent to a foster home. He busied himself recutting the pizza slices.  
  
"Stupid gits never do cut these all the way through, pick up a slice and have cheese sliding off onto the floor."  
  
The 'Bot peered at him. "Spike, are you talking to the pizza again? Or to me? I don't have the files appropriate to this line of conversation. Perhaps you will apprise Willow of the necessary information? She is my best friend..."  
  
Spike groaned at the thing's incessant prattling. With horror he realized that the realistic robot he'd had commissioned with such joy now irritated him almost as much as Harmony had. Almost. Thankfully, the 'Bot had no overwhelming urges to have him take her to France.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know, she's your best friend and recently gay. Why don't you go shut off for the night? I'll handle the nightmare in the other room."  
  
The 'Bot immediately came to attention. "Nightmare? Is there a demon or some other hideous creature lurking in the living room? I must protect Dawn!" Before Spike could stop the robot, it had charged into the living, skidding to a halt in the middle of group of girls.  
  
Surveying the startled teens, the 'Bot stepped back carefully and turned to Spike, who had followed it into the living room.   
  
"Spike, I don't see any demons. I only see Dawn's similarly-aged female friends having their 'sleeping at our house' event."  
  
Spike mumbled, "not much difference" but whirled around and went back into the kitchen, returning a moment later with the pizza, paper plates and napkins.  
  
Dawn untangled her hair from her friend's busily braiding hands and scrambled to her feet. Taking the 'Bot's arm, she began to lead it towards the stairs even as she was introducing it to her friends.  
  
"Ah, this is my sister, Buffy. Buffy, this is Karen, Tina, Alexis, Danielle, Michelle and Cory."  
  
The 'Bot created a new file called 'Dawn's female friends' and placed the girls' names in the file for future reference, then accessed her Social Niceties file.  
  
"It is my pleasure to meet you, Karen, Tina, Alexis, Danielle, Michelle and Cory. I am Buffy, Dawn's sister and legal guardian. Are you all having fun with the 'sleeping at our house' event?"  
  
Dawn heard Spike snort from behind her but she didn't turn, instead pulling the 'Bot up the landing to the stairs. The girls eyed 'Buffy' strangely but let out a chorus of 'yeah, thanks for letting us come over' and 'it's lots of fun' and 'can we come over more often?' This last was from Red-haired Pigtail Girl, who was eyeing Spike with undisguised interest.  
  
Dawn whispered to the 'Bot, "I need to talk to you upstairs, it's important!"  
  
The 'Bot nodded cheerfully. "Okay! I enjoy talking with you, Dawn. You are my sister and I love you very much."  
  
Dawn nodded and let the 'Bot go upstairs first so that she could shoot a beseeching look at Spike, who was smirking at her from his 'fight or flight' position by the doorway to the kitchen.  
  
Spike edged his way around the group of girls taking up most of the living room and bounded up the stairs behind Dawn and the Buffybot. He stopped in the hallway by Buffy's old room and watched as Dawn convinced the 'Bot that she 'needed a hug'. As she moved into the robot's embrace, she pressed the off button located in the 'Bot's left armpit.   
  
Spike smirked at Dawn's clever way of getting the 'Bot turned off; the BuffyBot didn't really think it was a robot and usually resisted being switched off, which often made for long nights in the Summers' household. For some unknown reason, the BuffyBot had a penchant of unknown origins for poorly-made Hong Kong action movies, which had been discovered on an impromptu visit to the local video store with Dawn.  
  
"Geez, Spike. Give a girl a hand, here." Dawn was attempting to move the 'Bot over to the bed. Spike lifted the 'Bot easily and placed it in bed, where Dawn covered it up so that if any of the other girls wandered into this room they would think Buffy was sleeping.  
  
At that image, Spike quickly backed out of the room. Although empty for months now, Buffy's bedroom still smelled like her, and the essence of its former occupant still lingered persistently. Dawn saw Spike's mounting discomfort and followed him out into the hallway, pulling the door shut firmly behind her.  
  
On impulse, Dawn grabbed the vampire and pulled him into a fierce hug. "I love you, you big, blonde, doof" she murmured playfully, then releasing him just as quickly and turning away. Cocking his head at his Nibblet, he smiled and followed her down the stairs, although much more quietly. He marvelled at the amount of noise one slender girl could make. It sounded like that Olaf the Troll wanker was thumping down the stairs rather than a fifteen-year old teen.  
  
Dawn had reseated herself with her friends and smiled sweetly up at Spike as he gauged the distance between the landing and the kitchen door.   
  
"Spike, do you think you could make us those ice cream floats you promised? We're almost done here with the pizza," she added, waving the last slice that one of the girls had saved for her at him. "I'd help you, but our movie is almost to the really good part."  
  
Spike snorted, shaking his head. "I still don't know what you chits see in that Freddie Whatsisname Jr. bloke. He is _not_ all that."   
  
Squeals of protest filled the air as he made his way cagily around the girls. "Give me half a 'mo, pets, I'll have them ready in a jiffy."  
  
He retreated to the relative safety of the kitchen and pulled the creme soda from the fridge and the vanilla ice cream from the freezer. Fetching seven glasses, he arranged them on the serving tray kept on the counter.  
  
From the other room, he heard Dawn enthuse, "You guys, Spike makes the best floats. He's good at that kind of thing."  
  
One of the other girls mock-whispered, "I bet that's not all he's good at."  
  
Spike paled; damned vampire hearing. He was tempted to peek around the corner to identify the harlot who was unduly influencing his Nibblet with lusty thoughts and improper comments.  
  
"Hell, William, back to your corner," he chastised his inner pillock as he plopped scoops of vanilla ice cream in each of the glasses.   
  
Dawn spoke from her unnoticed position leaning against the door frame. "Hey, Spike, talk to yourself much?"  
  
Spike grimaced. It was the second time tonight he'd been caught talking to himself, surely a sign of his impending descent into madness brought on by the influx of female hormones into their normally stable household. Well, stable for them, he amended, considering that he was a 'reformed' vampire, Dawn had formerly been a mystical glowy ball of energy, and they were regularly attended by two witches, an ex-vengeance demon and a...Xander.  
  
Dawn grinned, realizing that he was probably indulging in another internal monologue. "Listen, Spike, don't forget the straws, okay?"  
  
"For the love of...anything else I can get you, pet? Would you like me to paint your nails, perhaps?"  
  
Dawn shook her head. "Nah, I already did that. But you know, one of the girls brought this awesome shade of black. I could do your nails for you!" She pasted an enthusiastic and hopeful look on her face, trying to smother the devilish grin lurking beneath the surface. So few pastimes in life were as enjoyable as baiting the century-plus undead punk vampire who had proclaimed himself her protector.  
  
The look of horror on Spike's face did not disappoint, and Dawn shrugged, deciding to have pity on him. "Okay, maybe another time."  
  
She flounced back into the other room, leaving Spike to stare after her, mentally repeating a newly-formed and devoutly believed-in mantra..._never another sleepover, never another sleepover...  
_  
Just as he was about to bring the tray of ice cream concotions into the living room, the phone rang. On impulse he grabbed the kitchen extension, yelling "I got it!"  
  
"Hullo?" Spike shifted the phone so that it was placed firmly between his ear and shoulder and hefted the drink tray.  
  
"I rented a new game tonight. Wanna play?" Xander asked without preamble, knowing Spike would most likely say yes. A month earlier, Xander had finally purchased his much-desired Playstation 2, only to bring it over and hook it up at the Summers' house two weeks later. Every time Xander had tried to play it at home, Anya would complain that he was wasting time that could be better spent having sex, then come over and comment on his lack of video-playing prowess. Inevitably she would end up yanking the controller away from him and finishing the game herself. Xander didn't know which frightened him more, the startling dexterity she used to play and win games in record time, or the bloodthirsty relish she showed for killing every possible opponent the video game could throw at her. And _then_ demand what she had affectionately dubbed 'victory sex'. So now, he simply brought games over so that he could play with either Spike or Dawn and be relatively confident that his manhood would be threatened in only a non-literal way.  
  
Plopping straws into the floats, Spike was about to warn Xander about the goings-on in the other room when an evil smile crossed his face. The only thing that could make this night any more endurable, aside from the thought that Dawn really was incredibly grateful that he'd gone to the trouble to allow her a night of normal, non-Hellmouthy fun, was sharing his misery with Harris.  
  
"Sure, c'mon over, mate." They disconnected, neither one of them big on social skills, especially with each other. It was one of the things that made their friendship--the one that neither one of them would admit to having even on pain of death or dusting--work so well. They didn't put up with each other's shit, and they both knew that they could count on each other in a pinch, no matter the circumstances. Spike had recently even stopped stealing Xander's wallet.  
  
Balancing the tray on one hand and grabbing more napkins with the other, he entered the living room and presented the tray to Dawn with a flourish.  
  
"Your refreshments, m'lady." The girls giggled and Black Dye Job With Multiple Piercings scooted a hair closer to where he crouched as he set the tray down in front of Dawn. Eyeing Piercings Girl, he quickly stood and crossed over to the front door to wait for Harris.  
  
He didn't have to wait for long. Just at the movie had ended and Dawn had proclaimed the need for "N'Sync and a pillow fight" the doorbell rang. Spike swung the door wide and grabbed Xander's arm in one fluid movement, pulling him and shutting the door behind him. After a second, he locked it, too.  
  
Xander surveyed the scene that met his disbelieving gaze. Seven teenaged girls flailed around the room, pounding each other viciously with their pillows and laughing hysterically. The only girl he recognized managed to call a cease-fire long enough to stumble over and give him a hug.  
  
"Hey, guys! This is Xander, he's like my big brother, and he's getting married soon and I get to be his fiance's Maid of Honor! Say hi, everyone!"  
  
At the cheerfully breathless chorus of hellos, Xander rounded on Spike.  
  
"You...you...evil thing! You let me come over when there were, when this was..." he trailed off, balefully regarding Spike as he lost coherent speech.  
  
Spike shrugged and smiled gleefully. "Misery loves company, mate. So, you bring the game?"  
  
Xander gaped. "You--you think I'm staying? Ha ha, very funny. I have to get up for work in the morning, anyway, so I'll just be on my merry way-" He started to brush past Spike, but the vampire grabbed his arm and murmured,   
  
"Now, Lil' Bit isn't going to like it if you leave without saying goodbye. You want to hurt her feelings?" It was asked softly, but Xander could detect a hint of menace to the words, and realized he'd raised the vampire's protective feelings towards Dawn.  
  
Sighing, he turned to face the girls, who had gone back to pouncing on each other and shrieking at levels that would have alerted every dog in the neighborhood if they hadn't all recently been devoured by a canine-devouring demon.   
  
Audible only to Spike, he whispered "You are _so_ gonna pay for this. And not in the 'I'm gonna pay for this outta Xander's wallet' sense, either."  
  
Turning to the living room, he cleared his throat. "Ah, Dawnster? Listen, I just came by to drop this game off so you and Spike could practice it. You know, for another night." He thrust the bag from the video store in her general direction.  
  
Not knowing about the phone call and that originally Xander had intended on staying, she smiled.  
  
"Thanks, Xand! That means that Spike and I can tag team your ass!"  
  
"Nibblet! Such language!" Spike grinned at Dawn until he heard one of the girls whisper, "I wouldn't mind tag-teaming Spike's ass!"  
  
Choking, Spike mumbled, "Can I be deaf?" Xander quickly turned and pushed by Spike, who was torn between the desire to curse the man's cowardly nature and the impulse to beg Xander to take him with. Neither won, and in fact Spike simply stepped back and let Xander get out his hasty goodbyes before rushing out the door, which Spike swung shut after him.  
  
Eventually, the girls settled into their sleeping bags. Spike could hear them hunkering down on the floor from his chair in the basement, where he'd retreated after Xander had left. With a sigh, he made his way back upstairs to make sure all the doors and windows were locked and all the lights were off.  
  
He made the rounds quickly and was about to creep back into the basement when Dawn called out to him.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
His hand on the door knob, he froze, as if caught in the act of Breaking and Entering instead of Fleeing and Hiding.  
  
"Spike, we were gonna tell ghost stories-"  
  
"oh, okay then, nice, normal sleepover thing, g'night-"  
  
"-but I thought you could come tell us a scary story instead." Dawn shifted so that her face was illuminated by the pale cast of the light nearby. She looked hopeful and not at all teasing, so he paused.  
  
"Um, Nibblet, I don't think those stories are...appropriate." Understatement, that. He could hear Buffy's voice as clear as if she were standing next to him, low with warning and undisguised threats against his person. "Yes, let's hear the story you were telling my _sister_." God, he missed her.  
  
Dawn pouted beautifully, especially when she was fairly certain she would get her way. This particular vampire could be strict when necessary, but tended to bend to her will on the little things. 'Probably from dealing with Drusilla', she reflected thoughtfully. 'Let her have her way most of the time but always took care of her and kept her safe'. Biting her lip, Dawn regarded the handsome vampire who had become like a father to her. Okay, a childish and often annoying father who whined a lot, but still. She loved him so much, and she wished more than anything at that moment that Buffy was here, that her sister could have allowed herself to be happy with Spike.  
  
Shaking away thoughts that would only make her miserable, she refreshed her pout, which had lapsed into a thoughtful gaze that had not gone unnoticed by Spike.  
  
"Dawn?" He sensed that she'd lapsed into their shared world of guilt and grief, and wanted to prevent it from ruining her evening. Especially since he'd be damned again if he'd let himself get suckered into another 'sleeping at our house' event.  
  
"Spike, c'mon. Tell us one of those stories. You know, the ones you read very detailed, graphic acounts of?" Dawn widened her eyes, trying to telegraph her obvious suggestion that he tell one of his own stories and pretend he'd only read about it.  
  
Sighing heavily, he came over and started to sit on the couch, but Dawn grabbed his leg and pulled him over to her until he sat in the space she'd cleared by scooting into Girl With Pizza Cheese Stuck In Her Braces.  
  
Resigned to his fate, he leaned forward and let his gaze roam around the circle, captivating each girl with a look. As he began to speak in hushed tones, the girls all listened with anticipation.  
  
"Okay, about a hundred years ago, there was this bad, evil man who had decided to murder a family in their own house..."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"GAH!" Spike jumped to his feet, shaking his hand frantically, which was still smoking from contact with the sliver of daylight that had sliced across the room from the gap in the curtains. He'd been asleep, stretched out behind Dawn's prone form on the floor, when the pain had registered in his subconscious. He was already cowering in the safety of the stairwell before he blearily realized that all the other curtains had been drawn and the one small gap was the only danger to his unlife.  
  
His attention drifted to the pile of unconscious females in the center of the living room. They were in various states of repose, but he only registered Dawn, who appeared to still be sleeping and comfortable.  
  
Satisfied that they would be fine if he went to sleep downstairs, he made his way to the basement door, opened it and slipped past it. Just as he was about to let it click behind him, he heard the soft, sleep-heavy voice murmur,  
  
"Thanks, Spike. For giving me a night of normal." Before he could reply to her heartfelt gratitude, she had drifted off to sleep again.  
  
"Anytime, Nibblet." He took the stairs two at a time down to his 'bedroom', and was settled into bed before he reconsidered that last statement. As he drifted off into his own much-needed rest he amended,  
  
"Actually, Nibblet, never again. Never, ever, _ever_. Even a vampire who has already spent over a hundred years with a psychotic, psychic vampiress has his limits."


	3. Fixing Things

fixingthings

Title: "Fixing Things" (Third in the 'And Life Goes On' Series)  
Author: Spikelicious  
Disclaimers: I own naught but my fertile imagination.  
Feedback: Uh, yeah! :)  
______________________________  
  
  
"Bloody carburator," the white-blonde vampire muttered darkly, tossing the rag clutched in his right hand onto the ground. As Spike pulled back away from the engine, the back of his head connected with the sharp metal corner of the DeSoto's hood and he yelped in pain and frustration.  
  
Watching from her seat on the front stoop, Dawn's eyes widened as she sucked in her cheeks to keep from laughing at the vampire. The resulting expression was reminiscent of a startled fish, but did nothing to lighten Spike's foul mood.  
  
Scowling, he rubbed the knot already forming on the back of his head and regarded Dawn with a frown.  
  
"You know, 'Bit, I wouldn't be in such a hurry if you hadn't insisted we take the car to the mall."  
  
She shrugged in a distinctly feminine way, scrunching her shoulders together dismissively.  
  
"Huhn. Well, I am SO not taking the bus. It takes forever to get anywhere and the people are all like, gross and smelly."  
  
She scrunched her nose up in disgust at the thought. Personal space was a big issue with her lately, and 'gross and smelly' people jostling to get a seat around her held no appeal whatsoever. Then, at the reminder of 'gross and smelly', she turned back to Spike.  
  
"Uh, you did clean the car out, right? No nasty old blood bags lying around in there or anything?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. He maintained his car very well and the chit knew it; she'd teased him about if often enough, about all the time he spent in the evening just after sunset washing and waxing the car, filling in dings and dents occasionally, and cleaning the leather interior. It gave him something to do when he wasn't patrolling and it kept his hands busy, if not his mind.  
  
"Nibblet, you know very well I never leave baggies around," he reminded her pointedly. "But I did make sure to give the interior the whole spit and shine last night," he added, glancing with pride at the gleaming leather.  
  
Off Dawn's look, he grinned. "Not _real_ spit."  
  
He ducked back under the hood and started tinkering again, and after a moment Dawn stood and went back inside. Watching a vampire fix the engine of his classic automobile sounded much more interesting in theory than it was in reality.  
  
As Spike was finishing up, Willow strolled up the driveway at a leisurely pace, as if she'd just happened upon 1630 Revello Drive and had decided to stop. In truth, she was rewriting a spell in her head, tweaking it and changing a few incantations so that it was more potent. Something she did a lot lately, performing mental acrobatics in order to keep her mind from straying to more...painful subjects.  
  
She stopped next to the car and peered at the vampire under the hood.   
  
"Hey, Spike. I have those books you wanted. What's up with the Black Beast?" She patted the car affectionately, having relied on it many times in months past to get around when walking was out of the question.  
  
Spike growled in response. Dropping the backpack on the ground, Willow leaned in to examine the motor. "Ooh, greasy mechanical stuff! Neat!"   
  
Spike glanced at her sideways. "Got any spells for a tricky carburator?"  
  
Willow shook her head apologetically. "Sorry, I gotta understand the mechanics of something before I can work magic to fix it." Willow grinned goofily. "Hehehe, get it? Mechanics?"  
  
Spike groaned and Willow muttered, "tough crowd".   
  
"You mean with all the stuff you take apart you've never tinkered with an engine?"  
  
Willow shrugged. "Kinda funny, huh? That I've had more access to a fully functioning SlayerBot than my mom's Tercel."  
  
Wiping his hands on the rag he'd retrieved from the ground by his feet, he slammed the hood back into place and grabbed the backpack, motioning for Willow to precede him into the house. At the door, he placed a hand on the witch's shoulder to halt her. Quietly, he asked, "You won't mention these books to anyone 'cept Tara, right, pet?"  
  
Willow smiled fondly over her shoulder at the vampire who knew and respected her enough to include her lover in anything he asked of her. Although she didn't always necessarily share _everything_ with Tara, the implication that Spike understood the need was enough.  
  
"Of course not. Mum's the word," she reassured him, miming a zipping motion across her lips as she pushed open the front door.  
  
"Dawnie, hey!"  
  
After a moment, Dawn appeared at the top of the steps and smiled at Willow. "Ooh, Willow! Great, you can come french braid my hair for me!"  
  
As the teen motioned for the red-haired witch to come upstairs, Willow flashed a mischievous grin in Spike's direction.  
  
"You wanna come with? You really should know how to help Dawn with her hair for when I'm not around."  
  
"You're here every bloody day, Will, I'll take my chances." He waved her away and she happily bounded up the stairs to assist the girl she'd come to regard as a younger sister.  
  
Spike waited until he could hear their voices coming from Dawn's room then sat on the couch and began pulling out the books he'd requested from Willow. Surreptiously pulling out the gold wire-rimmed glasses he kept in the sidetable drawer, he perched them familiarly on his nose and examined the books. On the top was one of those 'touchy feely' books people were so fond of today, "Chicken Soup for the Teen's Soul". He promptly shoved that one back into the backpack, hoping Willow had kept the receipt.  
  
The next title "Understanding Today's Youth Culture" held promise, so he placed it next to him on the couch, and "Reviving Ophelia" as well. The fourth title--"Daily Reflections for Highly Motivated Teens"-- seemed a bit questionable, but he put it with the others and began flipping through "Parent In Control", dog-earing pages for future reference.   
  
When he heard Willow and Dawn coming back downstairs, he whipped the glasses off and replaced them in their drawer, then shoved the books he was keeping under the couch. Zipping up the backpack, he stood and met the girls at the bottom of the stairs, handing Willow the backpack. She threw him a questioning gaze as she felt the weight of the book he'd rejected but he only shook his head and turned his attention to Dawn. Hair newly-braided, she was obviously prepared to go out.  
  
She eyed him hopefully. "Car ready to go to the mall?"  
  
"Yeah, as ready as it'll ever be. Will, you need a ride somewhere?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "Nah. I'm good."  
  
Spike shrugged and led them outside, locking the doors behind him. Although he would rather escort her home, he knew better than to argue with the powerful witch, who could hold her own against any number of baddies that might have the stones or stupidity to attack her.  
  
Spike smoothly slid into the driver's side as Dawn struggled on her side with the heavy door before plopping her slight frame onto her own side of the bench seat. The engine turned over smoothly and Spike grinned triumphantly at the girl next to him.  
  
"See? I told you I'd have it all fixed."   
  
They both waved to Willow as Spike backed the DeSoto out of the driveway, and Dawn asked innocently, "What, did I say anything?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Don't say _anything_."  
  
"Spike-"  
  
"Not. A. Soddin'. Word."  
  
The furious vampire stood next to her at the shoulder of the deserted highway, watching grimly as the tow truck driver hooked the DeSoto up to the winch on the flatbed.  
  
Dawn regarded him thoughtfully for a moment as she fiddled with the cell phone that Spike had finally gotten for her a few weeks earlier, then shoved it back into her small purse. As if coming to a conclusion, she stated firmly, "You owe me a trip to the mall."  
  
"Get in the truck."  
  
As she sullenly complied, a thought struck her and she turned to Spike, who was motioning her to hurry up.   
  
"You're not going to vamp out and scare the guy so you don't have to pay, are you?"  
  
"Shut. Up. Dawn."  
  
At his use of her actual name, Dawn quickly bit back her automatic retort and climbed into the cab of the truck, followed by Spike.  
  
'Great,' she thought gloomily as she surveyed her current mode of transportation. 'Gross and smelly'. As the overweight tow truck driver--who apparently had issues with using deodorant--opened the door and hauled himself onto the seat, she was forced over into Spike's side. Huddling against her irate vampire guardian, she sighed. It was going to be a long night.


	4. Growing Pains

growingpains

Title: "Growing Pains' (fourth in the 'And Life Goes On' series)  
Author: Spikelicious  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playin'.  
Feedback: Please.  
________________________  
  
Spike stared at Dawn for a moment, his mounting horror written plainly on his expressive face. After a few more seconds, his body sank to the couch as if he'd lost all muscular control.  
  
Dawn sighed. "Geez, melodramatic, much? It's only a first date," she reasoned, even though her stomach was currently holding its latest butterfly riot. She knew that Spike was overly protective of her and hoped that he wasn't going to give her a hard time for every teen milestone she crossed, especially since those kinds of events tended to be traumatic enough.  
  
"_The_ first date, Lil' Bit." Spike looked up at her, a suddenly suspicious look creeping over his features. "The whelp...er, young man in question _will_ be picking you up here, right?"  
  
Dawn nodded. "Yeah, his mom, actually. He's still only fifteen and isn't allowed to take the car with only a learners' permit."  
  
'Well,' thought Spike, 'at least there will be no 'parking' at Lovers' Lane type of thing...wait, would they walk up there? She wouldn't...but if he was crafty enough he just might convince her, and then not only would she be in danger from the whelp but all the nasties lurking about...'  
  
He shook himself out of his reverie. and faced Dawn. "What?"  
  
"I didn't say anything." Dawn frowned. She really had to get Spike to quit indulging in these internal monologues. Maybe she'd remind him that when he did that, he looked like Angel. 'That would make him snap out of it for sure,' she thought wickedly.  
  
Spike bllinked. He'd really have to quit talking to himself, even if it was only in his head. He was becoming broody like his pillock of a grandsire, Angel. Couldn't have that; he'd have to stake himself for sure and Dawn definitely still needed him around to protect her from boys. Oh, and monsters and such.  
  
Dawn cleared her voice and Spike focused his attention on his young charge.  
  
"So, this boy-"  
  
"Todd."  
  
"-this Todd, will be picking you up here? At what time?"  
  
"Um, like seven?"  
  
Spike frowned. "_Like_ seven? Didn't he give you a time?"  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes in that way only a teenaged female can do and sighed in exasperation. "Okay, here's the deal. I respect the fact that you're my father figure, and I love you for it. You're also my friend, and I know it's hard to accept that I'm also a girl who wants to do normal girl stuff and not hang around with you and kill demons and stuff."  
  
Spike began to protest. "Hey, I don't want you killing anything-"  
  
Dawn cut him off. "Spike. I know you love me and want to protect me. I get that, okay? But you want me to be happy too, right? And that means you have to let me live my life and maybe that means letting me take chances and make mistakes."  
  
She sat down next to the vampire and leaned against his slumped shoulder.  
  
After a moment, she continued. "His name is Todd Wilson. He's in my English class and I really like him. His mom will drive us to and from the movie, where we'll be meeting up with Alexis and her boyfriend."   
  
Spike regarded the girl he thought of as a daughter closely. Heaving a weary sigh, he threw his hands up in the universally-recognized gesture of defeat. With an excited squeal, Dawn launched herself into his embrace and hugged him fiercely.  
  
"Thanks, Spike," she whispered into his chest, aware of how much it cost him to allow her these small victories, when all he wanted to do was lock her up until she was eighteen. Or eighty. The image of her young, blonde 'grandson' visiting her nursing home to make sure there were no men in her room made her giggle.  
  
Eyeing the top of her head strangely, he returned the hug for a moment, then pushed her away gently and held her at arm's length. "I still want to meet him before you leave," he warned, and she gulped. Hopefully, after being under Spike's close scrutiny and possible menace, Todd would still be willing to go out with her.   
  
She bounded up the stairs, yelling about how she had to figure out what to wear, and Spike sat back against the couch contemplating his current unlife. He couldn't help but reflect on that last night of Buffy's life, when he'd promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. Buffy hadn't said anything about boys.   
  
Buffy. His undead heart clenched at the very thought of her; of course, she was always in the back of his mind, but usually it was like a dull ache that could mostly be ignored. Sometimes, though, her memory danced into the front of his mind and all he could do was watch. Images of their tumultuous and often violent past would flicker through his head, always ending that night over her broken and still body.  
  
Shaking his head to clear it of his grief and introspection, he couldn't help one last thought: What would Buffy think of the job I'm doing with our Nibblet? How our little girl has grown', he thought ruefully.  
  
He replayed that last thought. Had he just referred to Dawn as his and Buffy's little girl'? Like he was some kind of undead widower? How strange could unlife get? Passions had nothing on his bizarre existence.   
  
Eventually, he could hear Dawn's chirpy voice and assumed she was on the phone, regaling one of her little friends with the tale of how she'd defeated the Big Bad Cousin Spike, Guardian of Dawn and Threat to All Enjoyable Teen Pursuits. They'd been phasing the BuffyBot out of their everyday lives, only firing her up for non-routine patrols and Social Services visits. She was simply too painful a reminder of the woman they had all lost to keep her around every minute of the day. So, to Dawn's friends Spike was the obstacle to get around when it came to extracurricular activities, not 'Buffy'.   
  
Soon, Dawn thumped down the stairs and came over to face Spike, who was still sitting where she'd left him.   
  
"Uh, Spike? Danielle wants me to come with her to the mall. Is that okay?"   
  
"Yeah, I guess. You need a lift, pet?" Spike noticed that although she'd applied lip gloss, she had little if anything else on her face and was dressed in normal jeans and t-shirt. Normal, mall-going clothes, he thought gratefully.  
  
Dawn shook her head. "Her big sister is gonna bring us since she works there anyway. I'll need a ride home, though."   
  
For a second, Dawn saddened. 'I wish _my_ big sister was still around to drive me to the mall. Not that she could drive, or that I would ride with her if she could, but still.'  
  
A horn sounded outside and Dawn shifted her glance to Spike guiltily. He merely raised an eyebrow. "Forget to mention you were going anyway, pet?"  
  
"No, no, it's just that her sister was leaving so she figured she'd stop by and if I couldn't go she'd just go alone."  
  
Spike waved her excuse away. "Nibblet, am I really that bad? Don't answer that, just go and have fun. Call me when you need a lift home." Dawn caught him in another quick hug before sprinting to the door.  
  
"Oi, Nibblet! D'you need any money?"  
  
Dawn started to say no, then thought better of it and returned, holding her hand out as he stood up and began rummaging through his pockets. He handed over what he found, which only amounted to about twenty dollars. She flashed him a grateful smile as she pocketed it and ran out the door, making sure when she opened it that he wasn't in the path of the swath of deadly sunlight.  
  
Gestures like that made him not mind the fact that he'd just surrendered his blood and smokes money. Well, almost, he amended, as his hunger, having been awakened at the thought of blood, washed over him and the need for a cigarette became almost painful in its intensity.   
  
It was time to get a job, he supposed. To bad putting one's unlife on the line and killing things that would like to devour the human race wasn't a paying gig. Hank's child support, which filtered in every month or so, just about covered the mortgage on the house. Giles sent checks for their groceries and paid their utilities from overseas, and Xander often stopped by with cash for Dawn and also usually provided their entertainment in the form of rented Playstation 2 games or videos. Anya often brought snacks when she accompanied him, and tended to buy too much so that there was usually junk food lying around the house for a few days. When they all met at the Bronze, it seemed to be an unspoken rule that somebody else pay for Spike's Buffalo wings and beer. That was, if he hadn't already won a day of Xander's pay in a pool game or hustled some unsuspecting frat boys.  
  
But it was time for him to support the Nibblet a little more and to stop having to always leech of his friends.  
  
Spike chuckled at his own joke. 'Leech, and I'm a vampire, heh'.  
  
Realizing that he was laughing at a joke he'd made in his head, he let his head fall into his hands. Maybe all those years with Dru had had a worse effect than he'd thought.  
  
After a few moments of hosting a really good pity party, he shrugged off his funk and picked up the phone, dialing the number to Willow and Tara's dorm room. He'd been playing with an idea for the last week or so and it was looking pretty appealing right now, in the face of his inevitable job search.  
  
"Tara? Yeh, s'me. Will there? Can you guys come over? I'd like to run an idea by you and you both need to be here."  
  
He cut the connection and sat back to wait for the two witches to arrive.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"...so, if I get a job, I'll be gone nights and I'd need someone here to watch Dawn. It's all fine and well for her to spend the night with you guys or at Harris', but not on a regular basis, you know? I mean, she's gotta have a sense of stability and she can't get that if she's always bunking different places. Plus, we could pool our resources, save on bills and stuff. Ummmm....plus, I make a really mean omelet and I promise not to ask for any threesomes." He finished with a devilish grin, hoping Willow and Tara's affection for him and Dawn would cause them to agree to his request.  
  
The two witches glanced at each other, and Spike's heart sank. Maybe they weren't ready to give up their Wiccan love nest, or maybe they just didn't want to live with him. As he was about to let himself start pouting, Willow smiled at him.  
  
"This is really cool, Spike, 'cause we've been tossing this idea around for awhile and well, we just didn't know if you would want us horning in on your thing here with Dawnie."  
  
As relief flooded through him, he realized just how heavy a load he'd been carrying. He was so worried about Dawn's well-being, and fulfilling his promise to Buffy, that he'd neglected asking for help. Now that he had, he was eternally grateful that Willow and Tara had said yes.  
  
Clapping his hands together, he put his 'all business' expression on. "So, how fast can we move you girls in?"  
  
Willow and Tara exchanged grins at the vampire's impatience and were about to reply when the phone rang.  
  
"Yeah? Eh, Nibblet, I'll be there in about twenty. Oh, I have great news for you, too...no, we are not getting a puppy. No, you cannot have a pony! What are you, five?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes at Dawn's joking request and Willow snorted.   
  
"Okay, I'll be at the front entrance. What? No, you impatient little chit, I will not tell you until...no, I did not buy you a coat like mine! I'll see you in a few minutes!"  
  
Replacing the receiver in its cradle, Spike turned to his soon-to-be roomies, his arms spread wide as if in supplication.  
  
"Kids."


	5. Monthly Visits

monthlyvisits

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Title: Montly Visits (Fifth in the 'And Life Goes On' Series)BR  
Author: SpikeliciousBR  
Disclaimer: Joss is Boss.BR  
Feedback: Yes, please.BR  
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**Author's Note:** This involves dealing with Spike and the issue of three women having their periods around him. Nothing graphic here, but if you're uncomfortable with the topic and/or resulting discussions, you might want to skip to the next chapter (you won't miss anything plotwise). :)BR  
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The reality of residing with three females didn't hit Spike until three weeks into their new living arrangements, when incredibly, all three got their periods during the same week. The visits from Social Services now seemed tame compared to the torture of living through the visit from the girls' apparently mutual 'friend'. BR  
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His vampiric senses being what they were, Spike had often detected Dawn's menstrual blood but had never, ever given it a coherent thought, completely happy to push the idea back into the farthest recesses of his mind. He'd caught Buffy's scent once or twice while she was still alive, but being the Slayer she was nothing if not practical about such matters and usually was completely undetectable, however she managed it.BR  
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But the almost spicy potency of the witches' blood combined with the innocent scent of his Nibblet, well, that was simply too much. His craving for blood was heightened and he fought it every minute, draining bag after bag of animal blood. Finally, he retreated into the basement, much to Dawn's concern, only leaving when he had to patrol or continue the as-yet unsuccessful job search.BR  
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As he reflected on his predicament, he realized it wasn't that strange that Willow and Tara's cycles had become synchronized; often women who lived together bled at the same time. But Dawn's time falling during the same week, well, that almost felt like a betrayal at the most biological level, no matter how uncontrollable.BR  
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After three days of living like a basement-ridden hermit, he'd had enough. Although he had a blood-stocked mini-fridge and a microwave, he didn't much like isolation now that he'd gotten used to the company of his women. They were his women, of course, because he was nothing if not a possessive vampire. But unfortunately, all three of his women were inadvertantly causing his whole body to go haywire with its various responses to the scent of blood--perfectly good blood that was essentially being thrown away. What a waste, he reflected sadly, although he knew there was no way in this dimension or any other he could approach Will or Tara about giving him...donations.BR  
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So on the third night, he found himself standing in front of Xander's door, the Playstation 2 that normally lived at the Summers' house clutched in one arm and a twelve-pack of Guinness in the other. He knocked twice firmly and put on his best 'hey there best buddy take me in' expression.BR  
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Anya flung open the door, obviously distressed at having been bothered. She was half dressed, and Xander called out from the apartment, Who is it, honey?BR  
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Spike groaned. God you two, didn't you both just get home from work? BR  
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Anya shrugged, indifferent to her state of dress or Spike's frustration. So? I wanted sex and Xander said okay, she explained unnecessarily.BR  
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Xander came up behind Anya, obviously naked and blessedly hidden from view by Anya's body and the door. Hey, Spike. What's wrong? The Playstation's okay, isn't it? He noticed the console in Spike's arm and a worried expression crossed his face.BR  
BR  
Yeah, it's fine. I just thought you'd like to excercise your visitation privileges, he replied snarkily. Listen, why don't you two finish up in there and I'll wait in the hall?BR  
BR  
To his dismay, Anya brightened and replied, then shut the door firmly in his face.BR  
BR  
Slumping back against the wall, he sagged down into a sitting position and cracked open a Guinness. Even waiting for Anya and Xander to finish having sex was better than being at home right now.BR  
BR  
Twenty minutes later, Anya poked her head out. Okay, we're done. You can come in.BR  
BR  
He picked up the game and the drinks and entered the apartment, shooting Xander a wry grin. Xander just shrugged sheepishly and held his hand up for a beer, which Spike automatically tossed him.BR  
BR  
Okay, set up the game, Spike instructed without preamble. He needed a good distraction and he'd been meaning to challenge Xander to a rematch on that last game of Mortal Kombat they'd played. BR  
BR  
Anya came over sat on the couch. Xander eyed her warily, and she frowned. What? I'll only watch!BR  
BR  
Xander shook his head. Unh uh. Why do you think I brought it to Spike's in the first place? Scoot, off with you. Go do something girly and un-videoplaying-like.BR  
BR  
Anya bristled. You of all people should know that a 'girl' can kick a man's ass at a video game, she pointed out.BR  
BR  
Spike decided to intervene, mostly because as entertaining as it was to watch Harris and his ex-demon argue, their arguing usually led to makeup sex, and he'd already spent enough time out in the hall.BR  
BR  
Uh, listen, pet. I could use your tactful conversational skills about now.BR  
BR  
He shared a look with Xander, who immediately knew that the vampire was in fact banking on the opposite; he wanted something said that he couldn't say himself.BR  
BR  
Willow, Tara, Dawn are having their monthlies. It's enough to bloody overwhelm a poor vamp, pardoning the pun, and it's driving me nuts. I've gone through a week's worth of blood in three days...but I haven't been able to say anything. D'you think you could be a luv and go keep them company, let them know I'm just having some 'guy time' with Xander so they don't think I've deserted them?BR  
BR  
Anya, who often felt left out of the female Scooby loop, smiled at the thought of being able to help Spike with his predicament while spending time with 'the girls'. BR  
BR  
Oh, of course. I'll go over there now and maybe we can eat chocolate and watch Mystic Pizza again.BR  
BR  
Xander shook his head but Spike smiled in relief; surely, Anya's forthright and bluntly honest nature would take care of this situation. Willow and Tara would simply bundle up more or something and Dawn...well, he wouldn't even go there. In her case, he would just go back to his blissfully simple state of denial.BR  
BR  
Turning to Xander, who had already set up the game, he revealed his naturally cocky grin for the first time in days. Ready to get your ass whipped, Liu Kang?BR  
BR  
Xander scoffed. Ha! You're going down, Sonya Blade! What kind of guy picks a girl as his character, anyway?BR  
BR  
Settling down in front of the couch on the floor, Spike shot him a look that silenced him with its intensity. The kind of man that would fall for a beautiful but deadly blonde, he answered softly.BR  
BR  
Xander really had nothing to say to that.BR  
BR  
* * * * *BR  
BR  
Willow, Tara and Dawn had just realized that Spike had not only left but apparently taken the video game with him when Anya knocked on the door. Dawn bounced over to get it, swinging the door wide to allow Anya entrance.BR  
BR  
Hi, Dawn. Spike sent me over here to commiserate with you over chocolate and 'Mystic Pizza'. Well, that part was my idea.BR  
BR  
As Dawn shut the door, Willow and Tara exchanged glances laced with confusion.BR  
BR  
I think I speak for all of us when I say, hunh? Willow's brow furrowed as she tried to think of anything that they might all currently be commiserating over. Other than the fact that Amy was still a rat after the latest attempts at de-verminizing, nothing came to mind.BR  
BR  
Anya shrugged and sat on the couch. Spike is being driven crazy by his bloodlust, because he can smell all of you since you're all having your periods. Where's the chocolate?BR  
BR  
As comprehension dawned, Willow and Tara paled and Dawn scrunched up her nose.BR  
BR  
Ewwww! He can smell that? I mean, of course he can, but I just never realized...ewwww! Her face became hot as embarrassment flooded through her. The thought that Spike had known every time since they'd been living together simply mortified her.BR  
BR  
Willow, however, was a little more sympathetic to Spike's deal in all this. Oh, goddess! It must be so hard for him, all that blood around, and human blood...oh! And witch blood, which is probably more powerful! Poor Spike!BR  
BR  
Tara nodded her understanding of the situation. N-no wonder Spike's kept himself cooped up in the basement, she offered in dismay. I hate that we've come into his home and m-made him so uncomfortable!BR  
BR  
Anya shrugged from her place on the couch. BR  
BR  
Dawn came over and sat on the couch next to Anya. Biting a fingernail, she suddenly got why Spike would be so uncomfortable. Oh, man. That musta been like torture for him. 'Specially since all that blood is just being thrown away. He must think it's such a waste, she added thoughtfully, oblivious to the various looks being directed her way.BR  
BR  
Ewww, Dawnie! Of course it's being thrown away...it's, you know... blood. Willow sat next to Dawn and Tara folded herself gracefully into a lotus position on the carpeted floor at Willow's feet.BR  
BR  
Dawn shrugged; now that she'd gotten over the embarrassment factor, her heart really did go out to Spike. BR  
BR  
Yeah, I get the biology part of it, but...you know, Spike's a vampire. Stating the obvious didn't seem to work.BR  
BR  
You know, to a vampire, that blood probably isn't so much discarded as like, life-giving or something, seeing as how it comes from the womb and all. They continued staring at her. What? I took health class! Squirming uncomfortably, she added I'm not saying we should all offer it to him, I'm just saying he probably sees it differently than we do. I mean, the guy drinks blood to stay alive. It's not such a far leap if you keep that in mind.BR  
BR  
As usual, Dawn's attitude was only softened by her rather mature grasp on life and the events that tended to unfold around her. Willow considered Dawn's point for a moment. A few naughty images leapt to mind as to how she could 'donate' that blood to Spike, which she quickly although somewhat reluctantly dismissed. If they couldn't donate it, they could at least keep it from effecting Spike so much. Truth was, she really liked living here and being part of this strange nuclear family, and she would hate to give it up because Spike couldn't bear them a quarter of the month.BR  
BR  
Tara watched various emotions play over Willow's face and finally cleared her throat and directed her gaze at Dawn.BR  
BR  
Um, Dawnie? Buffy must've had a way...I mean, she was out there every night, so she must have had to figure something out for those times, right?BR  
BR  
Dawnie shrugged. I never really thought about it, she admitted, although now she wished she'd questioned her sister about such a seemingly small thing. Of course, that was pretty much par for the course; she was always wishing she'd had more time to ask her mom or Buffy stuff before they had died.BR  
BR  
Anya sighed. Why don't one of you just figure out a spell that will mask you, like a glamour, but smell instead of sight?BR  
BR  
Willow stared at Anya, wondering why she hadn't come up with the idea herself.BR  
BR  
Geez, that's a good idea! Tara, you know anything like that?BR  
BR  
Tara shook her head but offered, It shouldn't be too hard to find something though.BR  
BR  
Anya smiled triumphantly. She quite enjoyed her interaction with the other female Scoobies.BR  
BR  
Okay, that problem is solved. So, again I ask, chocolate? BR  
BR  
Dawn jumped to her feet and retrieved the double-fudge chocolate chunk ice cream from the freezer, four spoons, and four diet cokes--which as all womankind knows, effectively cancelled any calories from the ice cream. By the time she'd handed spoons and sodas out and settled into the center of the couch, providing better access to the ice cream, Mystic Pizza was playing. They would do the research necessary for the spell in the morning.BR  
BR  
* * * * *BR  
BR  
Spike woke up the next afternoon feeling rested and ready for battle after his five-hour nap. It wasn't until he was upstairs and in the kitchen that he realized something was wrong.BR  
BR  
Dawn was sitting at the table, avoiding his questioning gaze as he tried to place what was off.BR  
BR  
Willow and Tara came in, and Spike suddenly realized what was missing. His couldn't smell anything. It was like being deaf, only for the nose.BR  
BR  
Oi! What's going on? I can't smell anything! Not even...BR  
BR  
He rounded on Willow and Tara, knowing that the absence of one of his heightened five senses and Anya's visit last night had to be related.BR  
BR  
Willow shrugged apologetically. We didn't know exactly how the spell would manifest, but it's only tied to our...monthly blood, and only when you're in this house with one of us besides Dawn. That way, you can protect her if we're not here and you need to smell something, like an intruder or whatever, she explained quickly, noting Dawn's rapidly reddening face and averted gaze.BR  
BR  
Spike noticed her reaction as well. 'Poor Nibblet must be mortified to know that I can smell that,' he thought sympathetically. A disturbing thought occurred to him and he quickly motioned Willow out into the living room.BR  
BR  
Listen, Will...she seems awfully embarrassed. I know Buffy realized that for vampires, blood and sex are often connected. You don't think 'Bit thinks that I...that she... Spike was so horrified by the thought, he couldn't even finish the sentence. Dawn was like his daughter and if she thought that he was aroused by her...ye gods.BR  
BR  
Willow rushed to reassure him. No, no, Spike, I really think it's just the ickiness factor of you knowing, period. Oooh, bad unintentional pun! But I don't think she knows about the vampire sex thing... The images that had skittered into her mind last night replayed across her mind again and she coughed. She was dying to know, though, so finally she just blurted out in a hushed tone, Does it, though? Like, with me? Or Tara?BR  
BR  
Spike grinned as Willow's curiosity overcame her usual shyness about such matters.BR  
BR  
Well, pet, if you really want to know, it does to a point. But, it's kind of tied in with the vampire survival instincts.BR  
BR  
At Willow's confused look, he continued. Well, humans technically have sex to prolong their species by procreating, right? So lust leads to that, even if it doesn't actually end up in a new life. Well, with vampires, we don't procreate but we want to stay undead, and for us staying undead means drinking blood, which also has everything to do with making more of our own kind. Get it?BR  
BR  
Willow followed his explanation, nodding to herself. It makes complete sense when you look at it like that, she murmured. Brightening, she added with a playful grin, You know, some people refer to having their period as 'seducing the vampires'.BR  
BR  
Spike chuckled appreciatively, but was quick to continue his explanation of how this affected him. But Nibblets family...I dont think of her that way, you know?BR  
BR  
Willow smiled. Spike, none of us, not one of us, think you would ever do anything inappropriate to Dawn. We did this for your sanity, nothing else. She laid a gentle hand on his arm, and he smiled in relief.BR  
BR  
So, we're all good?BR  
BR  
She nodded. If you don't mind smelling Dawn's cooking tonight, she added with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Spike shuddered. BR  
BR  
Somehow, I don't think I'll mind at all, pet.BR  
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	6. Help Wanted

helpwanted

Title: 'Help Wanted' (Sixth in the 'And Life Goes on Series')  
Author: Spikelicious  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, right?  
Feedback: Por favor, mis amigos.  
_________________________  
  
It wasn't until Spike's fourth week of unsuccessful jobhunting that it occurred to him to go where he usually went for information. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier, and he would have slapped palm to forehead if cool, British vampires did that sort of thing. As it was, he grumbled about wasting four weeks of his unlife all the way to Willy's bar.  
  
Willy stopped cleaning the bar midswipe when Spike entered and immediately began babbling his usual litany. "I haven't heard anything, I haven't seen anything, I woulda called ya if I had, Spike, I-"  
  
Spike silenced him with a pleasant smile, which chilled Willy's blood more effectively than the vampire's game face. Taking a seat at the bar, Spike folded his arms and leaned over, nodding his head conspiratorially.  
  
"You must need a new bartender for the night shift, right, Willy?"  
  
Willy blinked in confusion. "Wah? I..._I'm_ the bartender, Spike. The only one. I don't open until noon, and I don't got much else to do."  
  
Spike shrugged. "I'm thinking that needs to change, Willy. A man such as yourself needs to stop and smell the roses, and such rot, enjoy his pathetically short and unfulfilling life while he can." Hmmm, Spike reflected, that sounded a lot better in my head than the way it came out. Oh, well.  
  
"I'm going to be your new night bartender, Willy, and you're going to pay me decent wages. We are going to establish right off that there is a 'no fighting' policy and if anyone attacks me, my witchy friend will exact vengeance."  
  
Willy knew Spike meant Willow Rosenberg. He also knew that any demon that was likely to come into here might try and pick a fight with Spike but certainly wouldn't want to incur the redhead's wrath; especially since it was widely known that she could kill things from a distance, as had been witnessed on numerous occasions of late.  
  
Fairly certain that Willy would cave in as he always did, Spike rejoiced in his eventually gainful employment. Sure, demons and other vampires would initially come to harass him. But he was sure that Willow wouldn't mind being on hand for a few nights, to dispel any doubts about his claims of her exacting vengeance on his behalf should he be harmed in anyway. Plus, he could kick some major ass himself, thank you very bloody much, at least against anything non-human. And eventually, they would steer clear of Willy's unless they were after nothing more than a damn good drink. Spike was nothing if not good at what he set his mind to, and over the years he had become friendly with all forms of alcohol and most of the mixed drinks known to man or demon. He also knew some concoctions that weren't widely served but would most likely become very popular. Hmmm, he thought enterprisingly, maybe he could convince Willy to add that marvelous Onion Blossom thing that had been written off the menu at the Bronze, and some Buffalo wings while he was at it. Might as well have something worth snacking on during his breaks.  
  
Turning to Willy, who was waiting somewhat impatiently for Spike to finish his mental wanderings, Spike shrugged as if getting the job meant little to him.  
  
"So, we got a deal?"  
  
"Well, Spike, see, the idea of a vacation sounds mighty tempting, but I don't see as I can afford your salary, we don't really take in much--"  
  
Spike growled and let his eyes flash gold, which should have meant little to Willy because he knew Spike had the chip. But old habits were hard to break and Willy flinched, backing away.  
  
"Okay, okay, it's not such a bad idea...what if you come in and do the nine to closing shift?"  
  
Spike eyed him consideringly. Nine p.m. to two a.m. amounted to little more than a part time job, but he would make tips, hopefully, especially if he pushed the drinks that he knew would become instant crowd-pleasers. Yeah, that would work out great...a quick patrol, make sure Nibblet's tucked in nice and safe for the night or at least accounted for with the LoverWiccas, and off to work. He'd get out, do another round of patrolling, and be safely home by dawn.  
  
Spike grinned predatorially at Willy, who wilted a little. 'Oops, better not scare my new boss into a heart attack' he thought, then grimaced. Willy as his boss? Hmmm...better establish some ground rules, here.  
  
"Willy, you got a deal, but I'd like to establish some non-negotiable terms."  
  
Willy paled, only imagining what Spike might demand. "First, you may not treat me like an 'employee' in any sense other than that you provide me with a weekly paycheck in exchange for my coming to work and serving drinks every night. That means, no trying to give me orders or treating me like I wouldn't endure the headache to twist your greasy head off of that scrawny neck of yours."  
  
Satisfied that he'd gotten his point across as Willy blanched, he continued. "Second, you will add this thing called the 'Onion Blossom' to your menu, and also spicy hot Buffalo wings. Third, by 'paycheck' I actually mean that you will pay me under the table. As I am obviously a vampire I am therefore not in current possession of a social security number or harboring any desire to pay taxes to your bloody government."  
  
He seemed to take stock of his stated demands, then nodded in satisfaction.  
  
As Willy started to speak, Spike held up a peremptory hand. "Oh, and Willy _the Snitch_? If you backstab me or give me false or misleading information, as you have done with the Slayer, I will not only kill you, I will make you beg for death. Got it?" He hadn't vamped, but the gleam in his eye was unmistakable and Willy nervously adjusted his collar.   
  
"Uh, okay, Spike. So, uh, when you wanna start?"  
  
"Tomorrow night. Nine p.m., I'll be here and you'll have my first week's pay up front so I can stock up on blood and smokes. Problem with that, mate?"   
  
Willy shook his head, wondering how much he was going to have to pay Spike in order to keep his new employee from killing him.  
  
Spike could see the little gears turning in Willy's head and knew exactly what he was thinking.  
  
"Five hundred a week, mate. Under the table, on time every Friday night when I come in. That's a bargain, especially given the business you'll be getting from my additions to the menu and my own special drinks."  
  
Willy considered this. Although he was dismayed at having to pay Spike that much when he hadn't wanted the expense of an employee, he knew that the vampire's confidence at his ability to bring in more business was most likely well-founded. Plus, there was the added benefit of actually getting out from behind the bar and...well, he didn't know what he would do with his time but having no life was wearing on him, he had to admit.  
  
"Okay, Spike. You got a deal. See you tomorrow night at nine." Not knowing how to end their conversation gracefully, Willy simply turned his back on the vampire and began polishing glasses. It was then that he realized another potential problem to Spike's new position as bartender; Spike didn't have a reflection, and anyone ordering a drink was sure to notice that minor fact given that the entire length of the wall behind the bar was mirrored.  
  
Not one to dwell on things, Willie shrugged. Most if not all of his patrons were demons or vampires anyway. Those who weren't and were spooked by Spike's lack of reflection could drink somewhere else.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next morning, Willow, Tara and Dawn waited expectantly for Spike to spill his 'news'. He'd insisted on waiting until Dawn came downstairs for breakfast before informing his cohabitants of his newly-employed status. Now that she'd just come down, he grinned at the girls around him proudly.  
  
"Well, pets, I got a job! William the Bloody is now Willy the Snitch's only bartender!"  
  
Dawn beamed. "Ooh, Spike, that's so cool! You mean you'll like, be making money and stuff?"  
  
Smiling in satisfaction, he nodded. "Yup, and under the table of course. Five hundred bucks a week."  
  
As Dawn squealed her excitement at Spike's news, Willow grinned.   
  
"Is that what you needed me to 'be on hand for' tonight? In case anyone comes in and gives you a hard time? I'm there, all 'witch-fu' for ya." She smiled at her friend, glad that he would have something to fill his time beyond patrolling and watching Dawn. Suddenly her grin faded; Buffy had been in the same position once, but she hadn't had the time to get a job.  
  
Noticing Willow's eyes tearing up, Tara cleared her throat. "Um, Spike, can you do that Tom Cruise thing? You know, with the bottles? All throwing and catching and not spilling?"   
  
All heads swiveled towards the normally quiet girl, who blushed. "Well, that was really cool," she added quietly as her head dipped so her hair fell across her face.  
  
Spike chuckled. "Well, luv, I imagine that if that wanker Cruise can do it for the camera, I can manage it with my vampire reflexes."  
  
Dawn giggled at the image, and Willow and Tara soon joined her. Feelling incredibly gratified at finally being able to contribute to the household finances, he grabbed his girls in a hug.  
  
"So, what say we all go out to eat tonight? My treat? We can go out before I go to work."  
  
Willow bit her lip. She understood Spike's desire to celebrate and share his good fortune with his family, but he shouldn't spend a good chunk of his first paycheck on an expensive meal.  
  
"Hey, I don't really like eating out, and dressing up and stuff. Can we just order in?"  
  
Spike shrugged. "Whatever you ladies fancy, be sure to let the whelp and Anya know. I gotta leave by quarter of nine, don't forget, so we should eat by seven."  
  
Dawn nodded. "Ooh, let's just order lots of pizza with breadsticks and salad and stuff."  
  
Tara nodded shyly. "That sounds good to me, too."  
  
Willow quickly agreed. "Yup, pizza is of the yummy, especially that number nine Greek combo that Mario's just added to the menu."  
  
Spike grinned. "Hey, you'll never guess what I told Willy he had to add to _his_ menu."  
  
Willow snorted. "Let me guess, that 'Awesome Blossom' thing and Buffalo wings."  
  
"Hey, I'll have you know it's 'Onion Blossom', and..." He paused. "Or is it 'Blossoming Onion'? Bloody hell, maybe it is 'Awesome Blossom'? Crap. I'll have to know what to put on the menu."  
  
At the girls' bemused stares, he got returned to his original point. "Okay, anyway. I had him add the oniony thing and Buffalo wings so now I can have them for free any time I want."  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes at him. "That was dashed cunning of you, Spike." His eyes widened at her use of an English phrase and wondered if her own lingo had been slipping into his vocabulary. Worriedly, he made a mental note to keep close tabs on everything he said.  
  
"That's right, Nibblet. Bite the hand that will eventually feed you."  
  
Dawn blew him a kiss. "Okay. Well, I gotta get off to school. See you guys later."  
  
She left throught the kitchen door just as the phone rang.  
  
"Hullo? Eh? Hold on." Spike covered the mouthpiece and turned to Willow. "It's Harris. He wants to know should he pick you up on the way to work. Where you going?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Tell him yeah, I gotta go to the book store across town, and it's near his site." She left to get her sneakers as Tara sat down with a bowl of cereal.  
  
"Harris? She says 'yeah'. Hunh? Oh, about that. We're eating pizza and stuff here instead of going to the Bronze. Well, you pillock, the event is my getting a job. Yes, a job, and shut the bloody hell up! No, you prick, I have not joined the vampire mafia. Hey, wait, _is_ there a vampire mafia? I don't know either, mate. Eh? I know, right? Oh, god, Xander, does your chit want a quickie before you leave for work?"  
  
Spike snorted at Xander's reply and Tara smiled knowingly as she lifted another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.  
  
"Eh? Okay, meat lover's supreme pizza for you and me then. No, I'll rent a game this time." He perked up. "Hey, I can even buy one sometime, eh? No...we've outplayed that one. Okay, I'll talk to you later. Oh, just come after work. Yeah, okay. 'Bye."  
  
Spike hung up and turned to face Tara, the only other person in the kitchen.   
  
After a moment of comfortable silence, Spike sat across the table from the shy witch. "So, pet. What's up for today?"  
  
Tara shrugged, swallowing her cereal. "Classes. Usual stuff. Nothing much," she answered almost apologetically.  
  
"Nope. Wrong. Today is the first day of my new job." He smiled with almost boyish glee, and Willow came in behind him and hugged his waist briefly before moving over behind her lover.   
  
"Yup, today it's Spike, unemployed but generally helpful vampire. Tomorrow, gainfully employed Spike complete with bill-paying and grocery-buying fundage!"  
  
Spike eyed Willow skeptically. "What am I, an action figure?" At that thought, Spike grinned. "Oi, I would have some bloody marvellous accessories, wouldn't I?"  
  
After a few moments discussing what kind of accessories their own action figures would come with, Spike got up and moved to the basement door.  
  
"So, you pets all set for the day? I'm gonna go catch a few hours while Dawn's at school."  
  
"Sure. We'll see you later, Spike. Pleasant dreams."   
  
Spike went downstairs and settled into bed. As he drifted off, he imagined himself pouring drinks and tossing bottles around with practiced flair, while attractive and easily-impressed women surrounded his bar. Unfortunately, as Spike slipped off into slumber, the women's faces all became Buffy's, and his dreams were bogged down by grief and guilt, as they had been every day since the woman he loved had sacrificed herself to save the world, to save Dawn. Pleasant dreams, indeed.


	7. Couch Trip

couchtrip

Title: "Couch Trip" (Seventh in "And Life Goes On" series)  
Author: Spikelicious  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Lalala. New clothes!  
Feedback: Certainly.  
Note: This takes place the same day as Help Wanted'.  
_____________  
  
That evening at around five-thirty, there was a knock on the door. From his place on the couch, Spike yelled, "C'mon in!"   
  
Dawn glanced over at the vampire next to her. Not moving from her seat either, she looked at the door and then turned a half-hearted glare onto the languid vampire slouched comfortably on his side of the couch.   
  
"What if that was...a vampire or something, and you just invited it in?" She didn't seem overly concerned, merely curious, and Spike lifted an eyebrow.   
  
"Naw, vampire senses, remember, pet? I can smell Xander and Anya." Off her look, he nodded. "You really don't want to know."  
  
Dawn shuddered. "I know I don't. I really, _really_ don't. Unfortunately, Anya hasn't figured that out yet, and has no idea that most of what comes out of her mouth is totally gross. She needs one of those V-chip things."  
  
Spike chuckled and both their gazes shifted to the door as Xander opened it, having momentarily been held up by Anya's insistent reminders that they had to leave by nine p.m. so that they could have 'adequate orgasm time before bed'.   
  
Xander set the bag he was carrying on the landing and turned to Dawn and Spike. Noting that they were not moving in any fashion what so ever, Xander came over and stood in front of them.  
  
"Uh, so, whatcha doin'?"  
  
Dawn yawned. "Not moving."  
  
Xander waited, and when no further explanation was forthcoming he joined them, claiming the cushion next to Dawn's.  
  
"Yeah, not moving is of the good. You guys been here long?"  
  
Spike shrugged slightly. "Since Nibblet got home from school."  
  
Xander's eyes widened. "Wasn't that like three hours ago?"  
  
Dawn's head tipped in the barest of nods. "I made a bet with Vamped Wonder over here that he couldn't sit in one place for any length of time. And, here we are."  
  
Xander nodded, impressed. "Yup. Here you are. Up for a movie? You guys can order the pizza...hey, where are Wills and Tara?"  
  
"Loverwiccas had errands to do. Went to pick up my pay for me early so I could take care of Scooby snacks for a change. They're picking the pizza up on the way home, so no need to call."  
  
Even as he spoke, the two women pulled into the driveway in Willow's mom's car, which had been 'borrowed' indeterminably seeing as how the DeSoto got about a mile to the gallon. As the car doors slammed, Spike detected the faint scent of the pizza and grinned. "Good girls! Got the Meatlover's Special, no garlic."  
  
Anya went into the kitchen to get paper plates and napkins as Xander rubbed his hands together in anticipation, then turned to Spike and Dawn.  
  
"You guys moving any time soon?"  
  
Dawn sighed and got up, and Spike jumped up as well, dancing a surprisingly Xander-like dance while chortling, "I win! I win! Breakfast in bed for a week! Ha bloody ha on you, Nibblet!"  
  
Dawn rounded on Spike with a smirk. "Big win, Spike. You eat breakfast same time I do and all I gotta do is dump it into a mug and nuke it."  
  
Slightly deflated, Spike frowned. "Well...so what! I won, that's what counts."  
  
If Xander didn't know better, he'd swear Dawn had just made Spike pout. Geez, this was one Summers-women whupped vamp if ever there was one.  
  
Humming Wizard of Oz style, 'if ever there ever a vamp there was, lalalalalalala', he moved over to let the witches in just as they reached the front door. Sweeping the door open wide with an exaggerated flourish, he ushered the ladies in.  
  
Dawn moved up behind Xander to dig through the bag he'd left on the landing and pulled out the evening's movie.  
  
"Ooh, cool! I've been wanting to see this movie!"  
  
Xander smiled proudly. "Perfect choice for our little ensemble cast. Romancy-love story crap for the ladies, babes dancing wet on top of the bar for the men..." he shot a look at Willow and Tara, who were unloading their boxes of pizza onto the coffee table. "Er, and maybe some of the ladies, too."   
  
Spike grinned as Dawn rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just pop it in and start sending the pizza over. Spike's got work in a couple hours."  
  
All eyes suddenly fixed on the vampire, who shifted uncomfortably. "What?"  
  
Willow smiled reassuringly. "It's just, you know, the only job you ever had was being paid by Buffy to give us information."  
  
Spike examined the scuff in his boot at that, until Tara added, "But we haven't paid you for a long time, now, so...that's nice." She bit her lip and let her hair fall back across her face as she busied herself over pulling apart slices of pizza.  
  
Willow glanced at Spike. Hey, you still want me to come with you?  
  
Spike shook his head. I really don't think there will be trouble, at least not right away. Nobody knows I'm working there yet.  
  
As Willow shrugged amicably, Anya came back in and hovered over Xander from behind. "It took forever to find the paper plates and napkins! You use them all the time, why don't you just leave them on the counter?"  
  
Spike didn't bother mentioning that it had to do with his and Nibblet's tendencies to use the paper plates as frisbees, and instead reached over to receive his pizza from Willow.   
  
When everyone was comfortably squished into the couch or on the floor, they started the movie and soon became absorbed in 'Coyote Ugly'.   
  
* * * * *  
  
As the movie ended, Xander and Spike were of one mind: Gorgeous, buxom, leatherclad women who wielded water hoses and danced on a bar as if it were only lacking a stipper's pole held definite appeal. Willow and Tara seemed to agree, although they hadn't been quite as vocal about their approval and recommendations on how the girls in the movie should have gone about removing their clothing. Anya merely commented on what a good business woman the bar owner was, and Dawn was content to swoon over the lead male.  
  
As Spike moved to get his duster, Xander eyed him suspiciously.   
  
"Uh, Spike? You getting ready this early? It's only eight thirty."  
  
Spike straightened the collar and smoothed out his sleeves before turning to face the other man.  
  
"Yeah? So?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "You got plenty of time, it's only a five minute walk. What say we get a little death match Scooby-style going? We still have that game we rented."  
  
Spike shook his head firmly as he went to the door. "Nope. First night on the job, gotta show up a bit early and get familiarized with the layout of the bar."  
  
Xander raised an eyebrow at the vampire. "It's Willy's, what's to know? Besides, it's not like Willy's gonna dock your pay if you show up two minutes late. Geez."  
  
Spike noted that Dawn had watched the exchange with interest, and more for her benefit than any real sense of work ethic replied firmly, "Nope, gotta be serious about my first job. Will, Tara, Lil' Bit, I'll see you gals in the morning."  
  
As he left the house, Willow called out encouragingly, "Go get 'em, tiger!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Willy immediately spotted Spike--his new employee, he disbelievingly reminded himself again--as he entered through the side entrance. Ten minutes early, no less. As Spike neared the bar, Willy held up a newly printed bar menu.   
  
"See, Spike? I got the onion thing you wanted, and them chicken wings. All nice and printed up, cook out back's been bitchin' about adding them but I remembered our deal and he's made room around his Zarvok slop and Romnulf demon swill for them!"  
  
Spike nodded without expression, although he was fervently hoping that the cook could actually manage some decent blossoms and wings.  
  
Willy gestured to the bar. "Well, here ya are. Feels a bit strange and all, giving it over. I'm just gonna go out back in case there's a drink you need to know how to make or something."  
  
Spike stared at him for a moment until Willy squirmed. "Uh, on second thought, maybe I'll just go home for the night. Let Jasper close up, huh? He's got the key and all."  
  
Praying to some god that he would have a business to open the next day, Willy scurried out of his bar, wondering what the hell he was going to do for the rest of the night. He'd never not been behind the bar, and the fact that Spike was now there did nothing to alleve the anxiety.  
  
Spike stripped off his duster and shoved it under the bar, noting that the standard sawed-off shotgun was there, although the silent alarm button was not. 'Bloody Sunnydale PD wouldn't come here anyway,' he reflected as he began familiarizing himself with the layout of his new nightly domain.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Hey, Dead Man Walking, hold up another mug!"  
  
Xander giggled as he watched the beer mug in the mirror behind the bar raise up as if it was being levitated, rather than being clutched by an annoyed vampire bartender who was seriously debating whether the pain from the chip might be worth bringing the mug down on Xander's head.  
  
"That's it, mate. I'm cutting you off."   
  
Xander frowned. "Spike, I've only had one drink."  
  
"Yeah, but you're already bugging the hell out of me. I don't want to know you in three more drinks."  
  
Xander pouted. "You know, I was a bartender on campus for awhile. I could give you some pointers."  
  
Spike shrugged. "You know, I was a drinker for over a century. _I_ could give _you_ some pointers."  
  
"Oh. Well then, point taken."  
  
Sighing, Spike placed the mug back on the bar rather than in Xander's skull and wondered if Giles had developed his nervous tic/cleaning glasses habit in response to wanting to do violent things whenever the boy was near. Xander was actually fun to have around in small doses, but Spike had already filled his quota for the evening.  
  
"Mate, why are you here again? I got other stuff to do, you know...and shouldn't you be home shagging Anya by now?"  
  
Xander slouched over the bar. "Hey, it was on the way home...sort of. We just wanted to see you in action." Pausing, he reconsidered his own words. "Did that sound as nasty as I think it did?"  
  
"Oh, shut your soddin' trap, you monkey-spanker."  
  
Just as Xander was about to ask why somebody would spank a monkey, Anya stalked over to them from the Ladies' Room, not looking pleased.  
  
"Spike, there is a dead rat in one of the toilets. And that was the best thing I could think of to say about your bathrooms." She pursed her lips in disgust and Spike shrugged, continuing to mix table three's drinks.  
  
"Sorry pet, but that's not my job and I don't go in there. I suggest you don't go in there either and voila! No problems."  
  
Anya turned to Xander and eyed him, as if gauging whether he'd had another drink while she'd been gone. "Are you drunk?"  
  
Xander sighed. "No. Spike wouldn't let me."  
  
Anya gave Spike an approving smile. "Good. We need to go home and have sex now, and I don't like drunken sex. It's sloppy, and sometimes boring, and I usually don't get the right amount of orgasms, if any."  
  
Moving quickly to the other end of the bar, Spike began chatting up a Larvak demon who was trying to order some kind of motor oil, apparently.  
  
Allowing himself to be pulled out of the bar, Xander shouted, "Good luck, Spike! No dancing on the bar!"  
  
"Stupid bloody git." Turning back to the Larvak demon, Spike smiled affably. "Sorry mate, we don't carry Moyroyle young, but I do make a right decent Wallbanger."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Late the next morning, when Spike finally emerged from the basement still half-asleep, Dawn pounced.  
  
"So! How was it? Were there any barroom brawls? Didja get lots of tips and stuff? Did any skanky hos come on to you?"  
  
Spike regarded her blearily. "Pet. Can I have breakfast 'fore we get all 'Chatty Kathy'?"  
  
Dawn pouted. "I suppose. How 'bout if I pay up and heat it while you talk?"  
  
Without waiting for his response, she turned and bounced into the kitchen, causing Spike to shake his head and make a mental note to hide the sugar from the overly perky teen.  
  
As Spike dutifully recounted his uneventful first night of gainful employment, Dawn began to lose interest in his job description and politely waited until he finished his mug of blood before wandering into the living room.  
  
Slumping onto the couch, she fished the remote out of the couch with practiced ease and began flipping through channels.  
  
After rinsing his mug, Spike joined her on the couch in the living room, noting her now-still form. 'Teenagers', he marvelled. 'Bouncing off the walls one minute, totally quiet the next.' She continued flipping through stations until something caught Spike's eye.  
  
"Ooh, stop there, 'Bit. It's the Count Dracula one where Bugs keeps changing him into a bat by saying 'Abracadabra'."  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. "And we've only watched this one how many times? Besides, everyone knows the best one is where they find the abominable snowman..."  
  
In unison, they chanted, "And I will love him and pet him and stroke him and keep him and I will call him George..."  
  
Giggling, Dawn tossed the remote onto the floor at her feet then pulled her legs up into lotus position, idly playing with the frayed hole in the knee of her jeans.  
  
Spike noticed after a moment. "Pet, aren't those you favorite jeans?"  
  
Dawn nodded glumly. "Yeah, and they were one of the last pairs I had that fit right. And holey jeans are SO early nineties!"  
  
Spike considered her carefully. "You've grown again, eh, Lil' Bit?"  
  
Dawn sighed. "Yeah, like an inch. Pretty soon, you won't even be able to call me 'Lil' BIt' anymore cause I'll be taller than you." Her voice caught; although she sometimes gave Spike a hard time about all the various and sometimes bizarre names he came up for her, she knew he did it out of affection.  
  
Spike leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder to get her attention.  
  
"Pet, you will always be my Lil' Bit, even if you don't stop stretching 'til you're eight feet tall."  
  
Dawn stifled a pleased grin and nodded. "But I really do need some new clothes. I know we don't have any money really, but..."  
  
Spike eyed her suspiciously. "'Bit, are you trying to be a clothes martyr?"  
  
Dawn thought about that for a second. "Um, no?"  
  
"Pet, you need new clothes, you get new clothes. I'll have one of the girls take you to the mall and outfit you up proper." Spike nodded to himself, missing the gleam of hope that flared in Dawn's eyes only to die down again as reality hit her.  
  
"Spike, you only started your job last night. We don't have the money for mall clothes yet. I could...I could go to Kmart or something."  
  
Spike stared at the girl incredulously.  
  
"Pet, Kmart sucks."  
  
He got up and stood in front of her, hands on hips and disapproving glare pasted on his face. 'God,' Dawn thought distractedly, 'he's doing the same exact thing Buffy used to do when she was about to lecture me'.   
  
"Listen, pet. We have at least enough money to get you a couple pairs of new jeans and a few tops. We can get more next week, okay? I'll ask Willow if she or Tara can take you-" he paused, recalling every outfit he could remember either of the witches wearing.   
  
"Anya. I'll call Anya and have her take you. Not only does she dress normally, she's very good at being thrifty."   
  
As Dawn eyed her vampire guardian doubtfully, Spike was tallying the tips he'd made last night. Surely he could find a way to lure in more customers, especially the well-tipping kind. The more money he made, the less guilty Dawn would feel about needing new clothes. He just had to find the right lure, was all. An enterprising vampire such as himself surely could manage that.  
  
Realizing Dawn was speaking to him, Spike focused his attention on her. "Eh, what?"  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. 'Probably having another 'chatting with inner-Spike' moment', she thought drily.  
  
"I said, don't forget to return 'Coyote Ugly' to the movie store tonight on the way to Willy's. Xander forgot it in the vcr."  
  
"Coyote Ugly? Oh, that movie where those chits danced on the bar..."  
  
As Spike drifted off into contemplation again, Dawn turned back to the tv and allowed the comfortable silence to settle upon them.  
  
  
  



	8. Small Bills

smallbills

Title: "Small Bills" (Eighth in the And Life Goes On' Series)  
Author: Spikelicious  
Disclaimer: Characters are Joss'. Song is by The Doors.  
Feedback: Feed the beast, pets!  
_______________  
  
All week, Spike had served his 'specialty' drinks, convincing Willy to put them on special so that all the demon regulars would try them. For the vampires that came in, few and far between now that Spike worked there, Spike served a special 'blood wine' that was made of spiced wine and pigs' blood and kept at body temperature in an electric coffee urn. He never made mention of the fact that it wasn't human blood, and the vampires never seemed to catch on, ordering it by the carafe.  
  
As the week progressed, the usual patrons still showed; not many were deterred by Spike's presence, apparently, even though he had been an outcast for some time. And new faces began to appear, here and there, filtering in and claiming that some other demon had suggested they come try one of Spike's concoctions. Amazingly, no fights had broken out, although he'd gotten a few suspicious glares. Apparently, while the alcohol was flowing freely, everyone could manage to get along. 'Funny how it's the exact opposite in human bars', Spike reflected idly one evening as he dried some glasses.  
  
He'd also begun a new 'ad campaign', which basically consisted of flyers printed up on neon paper and distributed throughout the demon community. Spike had Willow design and print out the flyer proclaiming 'Friday Night at Willy's-- Ladies' Night! All Drinks Half-Price For Females of Any Race, Clan or Breed!' Although he'd posted most of them himself, a few regulars had grabbed some from the pile he left at the end of the bar, and Spike assumed that they distributed them wherever they went off to when they weren't kicking back at Willy's.  
  
So, by the time Friday night rolled around, Spike was hoping he'd get a real crowd of females in the bar, hopefully big tippers. 'Come one, come all, ladies,' Spike thought as he walked the short distance to the bar. 'Baby needs a new pair of shoes. And pants, and shirts, and jewelry, and that glittery junk she smears all over her face.'  
  
He could tell as he neared the bar that it was full, and he smiled in relief. He'd hoped his plan would work, but had been unsure of how many female demons were in the area and whether they would come to a dive like Willy's.  
  
He was unprepared, however, for the fact that he had to literally push his way through the throng to get to the bar. Nodding to several females who were openly eyeing him, he wondered if maybe the only reason the ladies hadn't shown up earlier is because they hadn't been asked. Willy's tended to have a mostly male clientele, and maybe the males liked it that way. 'No longer an all boy's club, fellas,' he thought with a grin. What the hell, he enjoyed shaking things up.  
  
Once behind the bar, the female patrons seemed to flock over as one mass, and Spike smiled widely at the crowd.  
  
"Okay, pets, one at a time, what'll it be? We have a new menu, but just shout out your poison if you know what you want!"  
  
As drink requests began coming at him faster than he could make them, which was pretty fast considering that he was a vampire and had made some of these drinks for almost a century, women began pushing up against the bar.  
  
One female demon, whose only noticeably non-human feature was a third eye, leaned in to speak to Spike over the din.  
  
"Hey there, sweet thing. You on the menu?"  
  
Spike grinned and handed her a drink. "Nope, pet. Sorry. But I make a hell of a Fuzzy Navel."  
  
The demoness sighed as if disappointed, but winked at him with the third eye and moved off to find a table.   
  
Several more women came on to him, all getting the same reply. The women took over the tables, forcing the few men that had shown up to share. Most of them didn't seem to mind, and soon everyone had drinks. Many even had Onion Blossoms and Buffalo wings.  
  
Spike's tip jar was about half full, and he eyed it consideringly. This week's paycheck was nearly spent already; he and Dawn had gone out and bought a DVD player, which they'd been wanting for months, and a few DVDs. They had also stocked up on groceries, and Dawn had needed some things for school. Spike had allowed himself to buy only one carton of fags, and he'd stocked his mini-fridge with blood bags.  
  
But if he made enough tips tonight, he could gladly and without guilt send Dawn off with Anya to the mall for clothes.   
  
Spike considered his situation. He was trying to figure out a way to put clothes on his...Nibblet's back. Clothes that wouldn't get her made fun of. He was worried about what Dawn had to eat, and that she was eating enough. He was in denial over the dance she was going to next week, and he was ready to gut the boy who was taking her, except that he would have to leave Denial Land in order to do so, so that would have to wait. All in all, his world now revolved around the younger sister of the woman he'd been in love with before she'd done the ultimate swan dive and saved the world. He lived in Dawn's house, cooked her dinners when she would eat, watched movies and did homework with her, and swore he'd die before his Lil' Bit lost another person, even if that person was only him.  
  
He was a soddin' Nancyboy. He was a father.  
  
That thought, although terrifying and wonderful all at the same time, also jogged his memory. He replayed the scene in his head, watching Buffy tell her friends and Watcher that Dawn was not to be harmed, or killed. His Slayer had actually had to tell _her friends and Watcher _not to kill her sister. The only thing that had kept him from screaming at the Scoobies that night was that she had never, not once, looked at him during her warning to them. She'd known that he would abide by her wishes, even before she'd brought him back to her house and stated those wishes plainly.  
  
He also remembered her curious statement, "She's me...she's made of me." He flashed on the visit to Doc, when he'd yanked a hair from Dawn's head and commented about DNA...something about that moment tugged at his mind, as if wanting to be brought out and looked at, but he couldn't for his unlife figure out what it was.  
  
A demoness brought him out of his reverie, asking for a refill on her 'Vengeance Cocktail' and licking her lips at him. As he made her drink, he noticed that two of the Flamedra Demons had gotten into a heated argument. Heated, because Flamedra demons tend to spout flames when they are incensed, and now their table was on fire. The object of their argument, a Chaos demon--'what is the bloody appeal of those fucking Chaos demons?!'--was leaning back away from the flames but not really making an attempt to get up from his seat. He was apparently amused by the two females fighting over him.  
  
As the flames licked higher, the Flamedra females finally leapt up from their seats, but not to put the fire out. Rather, they got into a knock-down, drag-out fight, pulling onyx locks of hair and swiping at each other with wicked-looking black talons. As the two lithe but deadly beauties rolled around on the floor, the fire was spreading.  
  
Sighing, he grabbed the water hose hooked to the ice bin and leapt up onto the bar, dousing the flames with a continuous spray of carbonated H20. For good measure, he sprayed down the two females who were still tussling on the ground. As soon as the water hit them, their skin began to steam and they stopped fighting, pulling away from each other and blinking furiously at the vampire standing on the bar.  
  
The demoness with the third eye grinned at him from her place in the crowd and made her way over to the seldom-used jukebox, shouting "I've seen this movie!!! But baby, you are anything but 'ugly'!"  
  
Suddenly, music filled the room and all eyes focused on the sexy, undead bartender who had commanded their attention so effectively.  
  
Grinning, Spike glanced down at his tip jar. "I've seen this movie, too, ladies. Just last week, in fact!"  
  
The crowd of females went wild, applauding him even though he hadn't even done anything yet except stand on the bar and be gorgeous.  
  
"How generous are you feeling tonight, luvs?" He eyed the crowd, playfully waggling his tongue before arching his scarred brow and nodding at his half-full jar.  
  
Hands clutching bills began dipping into the jar, coming out empty. Not wanting to disappoint his customers, he dropped the sprayer behind the bar and turned to face the crowd again. As he listened to the music that was accompanying him, he cocked his head and a grin spread over his face. Quite appropriate, really.   
  
He began to saunter down the bar in time with the music, dipping down to drop a playful kiss on a female's cheek before moving on.  
_  
Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel  
Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel  
Yeah, we're goin' to the roadhouse,  
gonna have a real good time_  
  
At 'good time', he did a quick hip thrust, and the women swooned. The tip jar was already full, so the more daring ladies reached up and stuffed bills into Spike's pockets and a few bills even made it into the waistband of his jeans. A grin split his face and he turned to make his way to the other end of the bar.  
  
_Yeah, in back of the roadhouse they got some bungalows  
Yeah, in back of the roadhouse they got some bungalows  
And that's for the people who like to go down slow_  
  
On 'slow', he rolled his pelvis forward then quickly dropped down onto his knees, mouthing the next lines and gesturing with his hands as if saying, 'come and get it'.  
_  
Let it roll baby, roll;  
Let it roll baby, roll;  
Yeah, let it roll, all night long!_  
  
He swung his head back and forth on 'all night long' as if he were in the throes of passion and then quickly leapt to his feet again, just barely escaping the grasping, reaching hands of the females who were straining to touch him. As it was, one demoness was successful at ripping his t-shirt. Shrugging, he ripped it completely off and handed it to her, then turned to continue his performance bare-chested. His audience was riveted.  
  
_Ashen lady, Ashen lady, give up your vows!  
Give up your vows!  
Save our city, save our city, right now!_  
  
This line hit a little too close to home for him, and instead of mouthing 'save our city' he howled the words, so full of irony and sexual tension that all the females watching shuddered with desire and emotion.  
  
With the next words, Spike's cockiness returned, and he dropped his hooded gaze to his audience and nodded in time with the lyrics as he strolled down the bar, idly rubbing his bare chest.  
_  
When I woke up this morning I got myself a beer  
When I woke up this morning I got myself a beer  
The future is uncertain and the end is always near_  
  
Nodding to the last line with a knowing--if somewhat bitter--smirk, he swayed with the music until it ended and then simply dropped down to the floor behind the bar.  
  
Silence fell upon the bar for a few seconds before pure pandemonium erupted. Women were screaming for more, applauding his performance, shoving money and phone numbers at him by the fistful. With a proud smile, he merely stood back and allowed the women to settle down.  
  
"So, pets, is Ladies' Night at Willy's worth a weekly go?"  
  
Through the affirmative replies and raucous catcalls, someone called out, "Do you work every Friday night?"  
  
He grinned. "Yup. Every Friday night, I'm your man."  
  
The audience swooned at that, and he began taking drink orders. 'Looks like Nibblet is going shopping.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next morning, as Dawn and Spike settled into their Saturday morning routine of cartoons and breakfast cereal eaten out of the box, Spike could hardly contain his grin.  
  
Finally, Dawn noticed and around a mouthful of Count Chocula demanded, "Okay, so give. What are you all 'Sylvester ate Tweety' about?"  
  
He reached into his pocket and pulled out large wad of cash, tossing it into her lap.  
  
Dawn goggled. "Uh, okay. Hello, pretty green bills. So, what's with the fundage and why is it in my lap?"  
  
Spike leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Well, 'Bit. You are going shopping with all those pretty green little bills. Anya is coming by for you this afternoon and taking you to the mall. I want you to restock you wardrobe with clothes that actually fit."  
  
As Dawn's eyes filled, she quickly wiped the moisture away and asked somewhat suspiciously, "So what did you do to get this? Was it legal?"  
  
"Sure. Remember I had Willow make up those flyers? We had our first 'Ladies' Night' last night."  
  
Dawn picked up a fistful of bills. "So, a success, I take it?"  
  
He nodded, unable to keep the proud smile from spreading across his face. "Yeah, you could say that."  
  
Dawn shrugged, apparently satisified, and Spike didn't elaborate. It's not like he was ashamed of dancing on a bar to make money, he hadn't even taken any clothes off. Well, not until they were ripped away, but that was besides the point. He just didn't feel the need to share.  
  
After a moment, though, Dawn turned to him. She'd been counting the bills.  
  
"Spike. There's like six hundred bucks here."  
  
"Hunh. Good job me, then." He casually shoved some cereal into his mouth.  
  
"Spi-ike, why is it all in small bills?"  
  
He turned to her with a 'deer caught in headlights' expression, and finally just pointed to his full mouth and shook his head.  
  
Dawn squinted at her vampire. "I'm just not gonna ask. Give me the cereal, Chippendale Boy."  
  
With a small grin, she settled back against the couch with the box as Spike choked on his Count Chocula.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
